Day of the Dead
by Dendraica
Summary: (based on the 1990's Peter Pan series) A new pirate named has boarded the Jolly Roger and chooses Jukes as his target. Meanwhile, Robert Mullins remembers the life he once lived before he became a pirate . . . (I am so bad with summaries. There's much mor
1. Day of the Dead

Day of the Dead

Robert grumbled to himself as a ray of sunlight decided to plant itself right over his eyelids, making his face uncomfortably warm. He threw his arm over his face to bring back the comforting darkness of sleep. All around him he could hear the sounds of morning; gulls crying to one another in competition for breakfast, his shipmate's steady breathing, Cookson's tuneless humming as he got dressed to start up breakfast.   
  
"Billy! Tis your turn to start ze cookfire!" Cookson called loudly, much to the dismay of the men who were awakened by the inconsiderate chef's voice. Mullins mumbled an oath and wished he had earmuffs so he could go back to sleep. In the bunk below his, Robert could hear Jukes muttering and tossing back the blankets that covered him.   
  
A brown hand reached up, feeling blindly for a bandanna hanging from the side of the bunk. Mullins plucked it off the nail and handed it down. "Thanks, Robert," Billy murmured, stifling a yawn.  
  
"Make sure he don't put anythin' in th' stew that looks as if it might crawl out again," Mullins told the boy.  
  
"Oh don't worry, I'll make sure it's dead first. Wouldn't want a repeat of the last time . . ."  
  
"Ey! I heard that!" Cookson yelled, glaring at Mullins and aiming a swat at Jukes which the boy ducked easily. Billy laughed, and walked toward the galley. Cookson waddled after, muttering threats.  
  
Quiet once again fell in the men's quarters. Mullins closed his eyes and snoozed lightly for an hour more until sleep was no longer an option; the foul smell of breakfast began to waft from the galley. Starkey and Mason reluctantly got up and dressed. As Mason shaved before a mirror, the two began talking. Mullins had no desire to join in the conversation until something Starkey mentioned caught his interest.  
  
"Now don't tell Mullins," Starkey was whispering, thinking Robert was still asleep, "But I heard that today is supposed to be a certain holiday . . ."  
  
Mason nearly dropped his razor in dismay. "Keelhaul me! Tell me it ain't another bloody Friday the 13th!!!"  
  
"A little worse than that. According to the Cap'n's calendar, it's the Day of the Dead."  
  
"Day of the -- ye mean that Spanish holiday?"  
  
"Aye, old chap. I wonder what it means for Neverland."  
  
"I don't even wanna take shore-leave to find out, what with all those spirits probably flitting about with their heads tucked under their arms and them chains rattlin'!"  
  
"Poppycock!" snorted Mullins, unable to resist speaking up. Mason and Starkey choked and stared at him. "Everyone knows spirits ain't fer all that chain-rattlin'. Not all of 'em . . ." Robert's voice had a tinge of sadness in it.  
  
"Why Robert Mullins . . . you're not nervous in the least?" Starkey prompted, wondering what was going through the Brooklyn pirate's head.  
  
"Oh aye, I'm nervous. Cap'n Patch was frightful and I'm sure they'r'll be haunts and spooks set out to take our souls to hell. But . . . not all spirits are like that."  
  
"I was under the impression that ghosts existed to cause mischief. Otherwise, woudln't the departed simply go to heaven?" Starkey asked, fingering his moustache.  
  
"Or the other place?" put in Mason.  
  
Mullins was quiet for a while, then . . . "What about children's spirits, mates? The ones that shouldn't'a died yet? I've heard plenty a' story of some poor little dame or laddie waitin' fer their parents cause they're too scared to make the journey alone . . ." Robert's voice seemeded to choke up, and he stopped talking and turned his face away.   
  
Something about the way he had broken off made Starkey and Mason decline from pestering him further. Shakily they began a new topic, and Mullins did not look over at them again, instead letting his thoughts wander through his past.  
  
The awkward conversation was ended when Smee, who had risen earlier than anyone else, came marching half-way down the stairs where he stopped and blew on his shrill bosun's whistle. "Time to rise up, tis!"  
  
"We're awake already, ya dumb--" roared Alf Mason, but Smee had already vanished back on deck. "Gah! Someday, Starkey, I'm gonna take that damned whistle and shove it up his--"  
  
"Breakfast!" yelled Cookson. "Come and get eet whilez eet is hot!"  
  
"And bring knives, it's still moving!" called a second voice.  
  
There was a scuffling sound, then a loud smack and a yelp from Bill Jukes. Mason and Starkey snorted with laughter and even Mullins smirked through the visions of the past that haunted him.   
  
* * *  
  
Breakfast was not nearly as bad as Jukes claimed it to be, but the men's stomachs still lurched afterwards at the thought of what they had consumed.  
  
"Say, Mullins, I wish ye'd rethink the whole thing about women bein' bad luck aboard ship," griped Mason, rubbing his sore stomach.  
  
Mullins was quiet, and hardly noticed Mason's remark. "Something wrong?" asked Billy, looking over at his older friend. Mullins roused himself out of deep thought and waved dismissively at the question.  
  
"Leave it, boy. Just some old memories come back to haunt me."  
  
"Tis the Day of the Dead, tis," Smee offered. "That's what's got 'em upset."   
  
Mullins rolled his eyes, and gave Smee a withering look but it was Starkey who spoke next. "Smee, that's not it. And in any case, why can't you leave the man to his privacy?"  
  
Smee sputtered, taken by surprise, and Mullins gave Starkey a small hint of a smile and a nod of thanks.   
  
"Begorrah, ye mean you ain't worried bout all them spooks and banshees an-an-an leprechauns?"  
  
"Leprechauns?" Starkey asked, confused. "I say, why would leprechauns come out on a day meant for spirits?"  
  
"They come out every time there's trouble, to be sure! They'll be out today, believe you me!"  
  
The men groaned and decided to leave the subject where it lie. There were chores to do and they hadn't heard from Captain Hook which meant he was plotting something for Pan and the other Lost Boys.   
  
"Mullins, come on . . ." Billy was saying as Robert finally shook himself out of his memories. He turned to look at the boy and must've appeared angry, because Jukes was suddenly apologizing. "I'm sorry, but you know the Cap'n'll get mad at you if you don't get moving--"  
  
"Ach, it's allright. I'm just . . . not meself today, lad. Thinkin' of other things."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Billy asked, looking at Robert seriously. Robert almost smiled. How many times had he asked that question when Billy was upset?  
  
"Never you mind it. It ain't somethin that talking about makes better. But . . . if I look too distracted . . ." Mullins looked at the boy meaningfully and Jukes nodded, understanding.   
  
"Aye, I'll warn you."  
  
As if on cue, a loud crow suddenly filled the air. "Why if it isn't Codfish's men!" Peter exclaimed, floating above them with his hands on his hips. Mullins and the other pirates drew their weapons while Smee panicked and ran in little circles blowing on his whistle.   
  
Peter laughed and whistled to his Lost Boys who were forever tagging along behind him. The men's eyes were diverted from the rag tag boys and onto the deck as the door of the Captain's cabin crashed open. Hook roared and charged out, sword drawn. "What are you lollygaggers standing around for? Assume your defensive positions!"  
  
Pan and his boys were flying around fiddling with the riggings. Mullins' eyes narrowed as Mason and Starkey began to scale the rope to reach the children. Jukes started up after them, but was yanked down by his vest. "Don't lad! Starkey, Mason! Get down from there! Ill fortune abodes!" Mullins called up to them. "Those whippersnappers are takin' apart the riggin'!"  
  
Starkey and Mason looked up and saw that Mullins was right. They exchanged glances of terror, both being thirty feet or so above the deck by now, and scrambled back down as fast as they could.   
  
"Peter Pan!" bellowed Hook, shading his eyes against the sun. "What are you up to, you cocky rumdagger?!"  
  
"Just borrowing a few things for one of the Twins' inventions!"   
  
Jukes raised an eyebrow, curiousity getting the better of him. "What invention?" he called up to them. Hook swatted him, nearly knocking the lad over.   
  
"JUKES!!! Get over to that cannon and blow them out of the sky before those cursed thieves strip the Jolly Roger bare! And the rest of you, do something more intelligent than standing there slobbering! SMEEEE!!!" Hook finally clobbered the Irishman and took away his whistle before Smee could make another peep.  
  
Jukes and Mullins scurried to Long Tom and began to prepare the cannon for warfare. As he poured gunpowder into Long Tom's waiting mouth, Robert felt the sun's warmth start to recede from his body. He looked up from his work and saw dark misty clouds sweeping over the sun, making its light as pale and cold as the moon's. And on the horizon, beyond the unnatural formation, was something horrible, so horrible it made Mullins drop the gunpowder and point, gasping breathlessly.   
  
Billy peered out from around Long Tom. "What is it?" he asked his ailing shipmate.  
  
"Th-there! Look! Can you not see it?"  
  
Jukes turned to look at the sky. "Tis but mist."  
  
"Mist!? Boy, look beyond that! Do you not see the demon ship?"  
  
Billy squinted, and indeed could make something sailing closer. "Aye, there's somethin' coming . . . Wonder who she belongs to . . . she's a beautiful vessel . . ." His voice was filled with admiration.  
  
"Lad! No! Tis demons on the ship! Do you not see the skeletons? As if the ship were made of naught but gallow trees and no-one bothered to cut down the mangy corpses!"  
  
"Mullins, I see nothing of the sort . . ."  
  
"Tis witchcraft foolin' yer eyes!" Robert yelled, gripping the boy by the shoulders and shaking him. Billy stared back into Robert's face, bewildered. He looked back over his shoulder and his young face tensed in fear.  
  
Now he sees the ship for what it truly is, Mullins thought, seeing Billy's horrified expression.   
  
"We've got worse things than witchcraft to fear, Robert," Billy muttered lowly. The lad's eyes were on the approaching Captain, who was fuming. Too late, Robert remembered Pan and the Lost Boys who were now out of shooting range with their gathered material. And not one single roundshot had been fired.   
  
"Uh, Cap'n we can explai--awkkk--" choked Jukes as Hook gripped both him and Mullins by the shirt, twisted the cloth tight against their throats, and lifted them so their feet could not touch the deck.   
  
"WHAT WERE YOU TWO LAZY NINNYCOCKS CONVERSING ABOUT THAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU LET PETER PAN AND HIS MISERABLE TAG-ALONGS GO ALONG THEIR MERRY WAY WITHOUT DRAWING SO MUCH AS ONE SINGLE DROP OF BLOOD????"  
  
"D-d-demons!" was all Mullins was able to choke out. Hook glared at the man and Billy feared that Hook was about to drop the young gunner and use his free claw to slit Mullins' gullet.  
  
"Ship on the starboard side and fast approaching!" Billy managed to rasp, not as strangled as Mullins was since he was dangling from the hook and not a fist.  
  
Hook dumped them both unceremoniously and stalked to the ship's railing, tailed by Starkey, Cookson, Smee, and Mason. Billy and Mullins lay side by side on the deck, panting and trying to get breath back into their lungs.   
  
"Who goes there!" Hook bellowed to the ship and got a wave from a figure on board. Bemused at the fact that the galleon was not turning away, Hook turned to Smee. "Whoever he is hails me as if he has business. Approaching a pirate ship . . . a galleon of such beauty. Perhaps a fellow pirate captain . . .?"   
  
"Aye, and perhaps a buccaneer as well!" Smee added. Hook put a hand to his forehead.   
  
"Yes, Smeeee. Of course. Avast, dogs! Set about in preparation for the approaching vessel! Mason, get planks for boarding! Starkey--"  
  
"Beggin' yuir pardon, Cap'n, but should we prepare to be boarded, or for boarding the other ship, sir?"  
  
"Gall and Brimstone! It doesn't matter, you poltroon!!!" roared Hook.  
  
A clear voice rang out with laughter. Hook turned and blinked. The ship was already along side them and men were putting out long strips of board so their Captain could cross to the Jolly Roger.  
  
"My word," grinned Hook, in admiration. "Your vessel as as fast as it is beautiful."

Beside him, Billy could feel Mullins shivering. "Demons . . . crossin' over to the Jolly Roger . . . Boy, we've gotta do somethin . . ." Robert's hand was on his sword, drawing it out. Billy grabbed his wrist.  
  
"Belay that, Robert! If I cannot see these demons, then neither can the Captain! He'll split you if you attack or offend these guests . . . especially if he believes they will bring him treasure."  
  
"They'll bring naught but ruination, lad! The Captain'll thank me for opening his eyes." Mullins started to his feet. Billy tried to grab his arm, but was shaken off. By the time the boy had scrambled to his feet, Mullins was already walking across the deck toward the boarding pirates, sword coming out of his sheath.   
  
The Captain jumped down from the plank and upon seeing Mullins, motioned for his men to stay still. He let Mullins approach him. Robert could feel all eyes on him, most intently Hook's who was about to step forward and apprehend the Brooklyn native, but the other Captain raised a hand, letting Hook know he could handle whatever was coming.  
  
"Shipmate, you're gonna get killed," whispered Jukes, trembling.  
  
Robert blinked and the ghastly demon before him changed into a handsome pirate Captain who stared back with golden eyes. "Perhaps you recognize me, sir?" the Captain asked. "You search my face as though you've met me . . . and judging from the way you've drawn your sword, the meeting was not a friendly one."  
  
Mullins shook his head to try and clear it. But the demon would not come back and the Captain stood there instead. "I must've been mistaken," he muttered.  
  
This was a strange thing . . . if the demon could even fool him . . . or maybe he was just seeing things because it was the Day of the Dead. Hook glared at him, muttering threats under his breath. Robert knew that whether this was a demon or truly a pirate Captain intending to do profitable business with them, he should back off. Right about now, he reckoned, he had no apparent reason for attacking anyone and if anyone killed him for the offense, he would not be terribly missed.   
  
Hook was still glaring, and Mullins fought for words to try and smooth the tense situation he had started. Bill Jukes beat him to it.  
  
"I beg your pardon, sir, but Mullins and I met a chap who looked a bit like you at one of the taverns. He . . . uh . . . lost a gamble then accused us of cheating and attacked us. We're sorry for the mix-up."  
  
The Captain smiled at Jukes benignly and reached out to the boy. Mullins stiffened, but the hand extended only ruffled Billy's hair. "Don't worry, lad, no harm done. I assure you, that wasn't me. I rarely gamble on anything I wasn't sure of winning." The Captain smiled, white teeth flashing.  
  
Mullins muttered an apology and stepped back, sheathing his sword. _He's too new . . . what pirate Captain with any shred of experience has glowing white teeth? Not even a rip in his clothes nor the soot or gunpowder of battle . . . He don't even smell like the ocean . . . Unless he started sailin' yesterday which can't be since he's a pirate Captain . . . _  
  
Billy ran his fingers through his hair trying to smooth it down, displeased with the fact that a stranger had displayed affection to him as if he was a mere tot. But he didn't his discomfort show on his face; too grateful that Mullins had gotten away without a scratch. What was Mullins seeing? Demons? Billy couldn't imagine anyone looking less like a demon than the pirate Captain beside Hook.  
  
"I am called Damien Mandryd, and this," -- here Captain Mandryd indicated a swarthy man who had appeared at his side a few moments earlier -- "Is my first mate; Ballast. I believe I have a rather interesting business proposal to make to you, Captain Hook."  
  
Hook smirked. "Profitable for you, or for me, Captain?"  
  
Damien laughed, liking the man's sharp wit. "For both of us. I'll be taking care of a problem, and you'll be getting more than what you have. For a man of such reknown, you seem to be a little short of manpower."  
  
Ballast snorted and looked the assembled crew of the Jolly Roger over. "Don't have to tell me twice."  
  
Mandryd glared his first mate in the eye. "Stow your crude tongue, Ballast. I apologize, men. Ballast does not have as many tactful manners as I'd wish him to."  
  
Ballast sneered, but not to Captain Mandryd or anyone in particular; more to himself. Shortly after Hook had offered Mandryd to step inside his cabin so they could discuss business, Ballast began a glaring contest with Mullins.   
  
"Great," muttered Alf Mason to Starkey and Jukes. "Two hotheads on the same deck. What wager do you wanna make that one of 'em's dead by sundown?"  
  
"Don't say that," hissed Jukes, his stomach lurching at the thought of seeing Mullins killed . . . or killing someone else.  
  
Mullins, meanwhile, wasn't interested in spilling the blood of any mortal man . . .  
  
_He's a demon . . . he can't hide his true form from me as well as his Captain can._ Mullins shuddered at the sharp-toothed grin Ballast was aiming at him. The man's yellow cat-eyes rolled at him menancingly. "Got a problem, mate?" Ballast growled, and spat on the deck.   
  
Mullins could not take his eyes away as Ballast's body swam in his vision, morphing from one form to the other. _Tryin' ta convince me that he's human . . . feh, I know his kind._  
  
Ballast glowered and his body turned back to a spindle-legged, jagged-toothed demon, foam flecking his lips and yellow eyes rolling madly. Mullins gasped and stepped back as he saw the demon in true form - not even attempting to raise its shield of illusion. Even then, Ballast did not let on that he was worried. He turned to the other men and made a circular motion with his finger next to his temple. "Quite the loony, ain't he?" he commented snidely.  
  
Jukes bristled and before he quite knew what he was doing, stepped forward and would have said something harsh - regardless of the consequences - had not Mason grabbed his arm and shoved him back out of Ballast's line of sight. Furious at the gesture, Billy was about to tell Mason off, but Alf was already approaching Ballast. The man looked over Mason's muscled form, and spat again, unconcerned., though he did not speak another word.   


~~~~~~~~~~~

Mandryd took to offer of wine graciously and as the two Captains settled in, they began to talk business. "What brings you to me, my good man? You mentioned profit. Have you news of treasure?" Hook asked, sipping the dark wine in his glass.  
  
"Nay, and alas. What brought me seeking the Jolly Roger was news of your leadership . . . the fact that men fear you. I'm afraid my first mate - as you may have noticed - has no respect for me. I was wondering . . . if in exchange for gold, you would . . . take him off my hands?"  
  
Hook stared at Mandryd, confused. "If the blaggard is as crude as you claim, what on earth possessed you to make him your first mate?"  
  
"Ah, excellent question. Ballast has proven himself useful to me - the man can sniff a gold doubloon out of hiding anywhere and anytime. He's either very lucky or very experienced. But lately . . . he's gotten too . . . shall we say, arrogant?"  
  
Captain Hook smirked. "I see . . ."  
  
"What he finds he now keeps from me. It angers me greatly, but I do not wish to kill him. He will serve you well, Captain. You are not as soft as I. But here is gold, should he prove otherwise."  
  
Hook naturally did not trust a Captain he had just met, especially one that was sleek and shining and looked as if he had killed men without even getting his blade dirty. Yet as many doubts as he had, Hook could not see how he could lose in this deal. The only thing that bothered him was how easily he had come by it.   
  
Mandryd lifted a bag from the fold of his cloak and dropped it before Hook. A handsome amount of gold sat waiting inside.   
  
"If you doubt his worth, then you can kill him right now, and I would still pay you the gold. All I wish is to be rid of him. And that hopefully, you will someday remember the gift I have given you."  
  
"If it is indeed a gift, then I shall." Hook grinned and offered his hook to Mandryd to shake on their bargain.  


~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good Lord, he's leavin' him with us?" Mason muttered, as he and the other pirates watched Mandryd board his shining vessel without Ballast.   
  
"Look sharp, you dogs!" Hook barked and the men stood to attention. "Ballast is your new shipmate as of today. He shall remain with us, unless he proves himself useless. Speak, man. What do you do besides hunt out treasure as your Captain spoke? Surely you have other skills."  
  
"Aye. I ken be th' gunner."  
  
Jukes coughed. "Excuse me," he said, "But that's my job."  
  
Ballast hooted with laughter. "You let the cabin-boy be the gunner? What's the matter, son, not enough boots to polish?"  
  
Jukes glowered and were it not for Mullins' restraining hand on his arm, he didn't know what he might have said or done. He bit his lip and averted his gaze, trying to cool his anger down. Ballast, however, didn't know when to shut up. "I think you oughta let a real man handle the cannons, Cap'n."  
  
Hook did not answer, though he was less than amused that Ballast was already picking fights.  
  
Struggling for control over his temper, Jukes bit his lip until he was able to taste blood. He decided to try and pretend he hadn't heard that comment, and turned to watch two pirates crossing the plank between vessels carrying their new shipmate's belongings over.  
  
They deposited the sea-chest on deck and Ballast smirked unpleasantly and motioned to Billy. "Well, cabin-boy, what are you waiting for? If you can push cannons around, then you can certainly carry luggage to my new quarters."  
  
This time Billy couldn't stop himself. "Carry your own damn things!" he burst out.   
  
Ballast glowered back, making a fist. "Enough!" roared Hook, reaching his boiling point. He grabbed Ballast by the collar and dragged him up until the man's toes barely touched the deck. "My men are not your servants. And when your Captain said you were arrogant, he was by no means mistaken! I pray, for your sake, that you have more to contribute than childish taunts!"  
  
As swiftly as Hook had tongue-lashed Ballast, he now turned his attention to Billy. "And you, boy, will watch your tongue when speaking to your elders! Ballast was right about one thing. Carrying luggage is a cabin-boy's duties."  
  
"Aye, sir," Billy answered in a subdued tone, not happy with the prospect of doing labor for someone he already disliked.  
  
Hook let go of Ballast as if the man had a disease, and stalked back to his cabin, rubbing his temples as if plagued by the start of a migraine. As soon as the cabin door slammed shut, Ballast smirked at Billy. Weary and struggling to lift the cumbersome boxes, Jukes did not even trouble himself to glare back.  
  
"What a slimy braggart," Starkey muttered under his breath to Mullins.  
  
"Ye don't know the half of it," the Brooklyn native answered wryly. "I don't s'pose you see what he is either." Starkey stared back at him, confused. Mullins cursed under his breath. "Unless it's just me with Neverfever again . . ."  
  
Starkey's eyes now widened in comprehension and concern. "Demons again, Robert?"  
  
"Aye . . . both him and Mandryd . . ."  
  
"Oh really now," the Englishman dismissed. Mullins glowered and Starkey hastened to appease him. "Are you quite certain?"   
  
"About as certain as hell is hot! Think of it Starkey. Mandryd was too perfect . . . for a pirate _Captain._ Don't ye think there's anything amiss with that? White teeth, not a thread of his attire so much as worn . . ."  
  
"Perhaps he's very wealthy," Starkey tried to reason.  
  
Meanwhile, Ballast was watching and listening to the two men, oblivious to Billy who was groaning and swearing softly as he struggled with Ballast's large sea-chest. Ballast sneered as he overheard Mullins' suspicions. Something that was a pretty amazing feat since the men were talking in low whispers and standing far down at the end of the deck.   
  
Mullins was a threat if Ballast didn't do something. The man was harmless at the moment; nobody else seemed to share his suspicions yet, except perhaps . . .  
Ballast turned his attention to Jukes and probed the boy's thoughts to see for himself. He found no trace of the accusations Mullins was with-holding, but he did find something similiar . . . the boy had a strong connection with the Brooklyn pirate; he trusted the older man and constantly defended him. And in return, Ballast could see memories of the adult pirate's kindness to the boy. They would do anything for one another; although it was something the two would probably never admit to each other. Perfect . . . he could use this. In fact, he already had an idea.  
  
Jukes shuddered as he felt the cold fingers pass through his mind and then leave. He turned to Ballast, but immediately lowered his gaze. It was probably just his imagination . . . it couldn't have been anything else. He turned his focus back on the stubborn sea-chest he was lugging for Ballast. What in the seven depths did he _have_ in there? Cannonballs? Iron weights? It was almost heavier than Long Tom!  
  
"Hoy!" Ballast's voice raised above the sea's churning. "You two men over there. Don't you have chores to do?"   
  
That was _it._ With a bang, Jukes let the sea-chest drop and turned to Ballast, just as the man knew he would. "Who died and made you Captain?! It's bad enough you boss me around and get away with it!"  
  
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before the back of Ballast's hand cracked across Jukes' face. A hard shove sent the lad sprawling backwards over the sea-chest and landing hard on his back, his head striking the deck first. Billy lay dazed and bleeding, barely able to make out the difference between Ballast's cursing and the ringing in his ears.   
  
While the men watched this brutality in shock, Mullins' eyes were beholding something far, far worse. The frothing demon was back and rather than a mere slap to the face, Jukes was bleeding heavily from five long gashes across his chest. The boy was trembling, trying to shield himself and the demon raised its claws once more for the killing blow, still shrieking in its gibbering language.  
  
"NO!" roared Mullins, drawing his weapon and springing forward. Starkey reached to grab him and missed, stumbling forward.  
  
"Robert, belay that!" bellowed Mason, leaping to intercept the man seconds too late.  
  
"Away from him, demon!"  
  
Perfect . . . Ballast thought, smiling for a brief second before dodging the blade that whistled past him. His face grew alarmed, then frightened as Mullins thrust and sliced at him. Ballast dodged the blows with ease, artfully making it look as though he was incredibly lucky to be so agile.   
  
"Captain!" he shrieked in a hysterical voice. "Get this loony away from me! He's tryin' ta kill me!"  
  
The cabin door banged open and Jukes drew in a shaking breath and struggled to his feet, knowing how this must look in Hook's eyes. Mullins might indeed have done Ballast some damage, if Jukes hadn't run to the man and put his hands on the man's sword arm. "Belay that, shipmate, I'm allright!"  
  
Mullins stopped at once, dropped his sword, and grabbed Jukes by the shoulders. "Allright?! How ken ya say that?! I saw wounds that woulda killed . . ." Mullins looked Billy over. The gaping flesh wounds had disappeared and the only harm apparent on Jukes' body was a bruise forming over his cheekbone and a few scrapes where he had fallen.  
  
A low growl reminded Mullins that the demon was still present, but when he looked up from Jukes, it was to meet face to face with Hook instead of Ballast. Jukes' heart leapt to his throat as he saw Hook grab Mullins' collar with his claw and yank the man up. For the second time that day, Mullins found himself choking on the makeshift noose of his own shirt-collar.  
  
"What is the cause of all this racket?!" Hook snarled. His eyes went from Mullins, to Ballast, then to Jukes. "WHO STARTED THIS?!"  
  
Jukes pointed at Ballast, Ballast pointed at Mullins, and Mullins also pointed to Ballast. Seeing that he was going to get no answer from any of the three, Hook turned to one of the other men. "Starkey! What happened?"  
  
"Well, um, that is to say . . ."  
  
"SPIT IT OUT, YOU DOG!!!"  
  
"Mullins saw Ballast strike Jukes and . . . and attacked him," Starkey said, simply.  
  
"Shrieking somethin about a demon, he was," Smee offered. Jukes groaned inwardly. Did Smee really have to say that?!  
  
"Aye, he was, Captain! Everyone heard him! The man's insane!" yelped Ballast.  
  
"He is not!" Jukes shot back, hotly. But all the fire behind his words sputtered and died when Hook turned his cold gaze on him.  
  
"Mr. Jukes, what did you do to make Ballast attack you?"  
  
"N-nothing . . . just . . ."  
  
Hook's left hand snaked out and grabbed Billy's jaw, forcing the boy to look up at him. "This," Hook growled, fingering the bruise on the boy's cheek with his thumb, "Doesn't look like _nothing_ to me."  
  
"He was bossing everyone around . . . telling them to go to chores--"  
  
"I didn't ask for what he did, Mr. Jukes!" Hook snapped impatiently, though he gave Ballast a withering look.  
  
"I . . . told him to knock it off."  
  
"I see. And I would be correct, I presume, if I guessed you weren't particularily a gentleman about it?"  
  
Shame-faced, the boy nodded. Hook sighed disapprovingly and turned his attention back to Mullins. "What is this nonsense all about, Robert Mullins?"  
  
"I saw somethin', Cap'n," Robert started, and Billy closed his eyes in dread. The man was in enough trouble already - in fact, they both were. "Mandryd, Ballast . . . they ain't human!"  
  
Hook was trembling with quiet rage. Billy and the other men knew that the Captain's temper was at an end with Mullins and fervently prayed for Robert to stop. "They're demons . . ." he trailed off, seeing that Hook was dangerously close to a violent outburst.  
  
"Demons huh? Where did you find this nut?" snorted Ballast.  
  
Jukes exhaled sharply, and grit his teeth. _Shut up before I split you, Ballast_, he said in his mind, knowing it would be foolish to say it aloud at the moment.  
  
Hook made a sound of disgust, managing finally to put his anger in check, and shoved Mullins away. The men sighed, relieved there was to be no bloodshed from the matter. But what the Captain had to say next shocked them all.  
  
"Leave this ship, Mr. Mullins. You have an hour to get your things. I have had it with your superstitious nonsense, and it is only because of the fact that I am weary of this whole day that I let you go in peace. But if you set foot upon this deck again, mark me, you will perish most hideously!" 

"No . . ," Billy whispered in protest, then bit his tongue. Hook turned to him then, and whether or not the Captain had heard him made no difference as it was not mentioned.  
  
"Carry on with the luggage, Mr. Jukes, and when you are finished, you can help Mullins clear out his bunk."  
  
NO!!! Billy felt like screaming, but he somehow couldn't find any courage. He looked at Mullins in despair. And for the first time, Robert turned away, unable to meet the boy's gaze.  


~~~~~~~~~~~

Mason had offered to help the boy carry the sea-chest down to the men's quarters. Ballast was in no position to argue since he was busy getting his ears belabored by the Captain's roaring. Despite the fact that he was ruffled and somewhat on Hook's bad side, Ballast praised himself for getting rid of Mullins.  
  
The next step would be the boy, if Jukes proved to be troublesome enough - but Ballast was confident he could keep him under his control.   
  
From here on, everything was going to be child's play.  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~

Numbly, Jukes handed Mullins one last belonging. Distractedly, the older pirate took it from him, letting the cloth bundled around it unwind. Jukes caught a glimpse of a frame, then the portrait inside . . . a young girl with brown hair and eyes the color of blue cornflowers stared out at him. Mullins did not explain and Jukes did not ask. Robert simply re-wrapped the portrait and set it in the longboat, tucked away beside his other possessions.  
  
When nothing more aboard the Jolly Roger was his to claim, Mullins began to lower himself down to the boat, to begin his lonely row to shore. As he scaled down the rope ladder, he felt a wet drop of water hit his knuckle and looked up in time to see Jukes quickly wiping a hand across his eyes. Jukes looked down at him, his brown eyes struggling to hold back tears. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked, voice almost gone from the effort of swallowing down the sobs threatening to break forth.  
  
Mullins suddenly felt a sharp pang of guilt. He should have fought against Hook signing him off; he shouldn't have backed down so quietly! But for the first time since he could remember, Mullins was tired in body and soul. He felt like he was rowing ashore to dig his own grave and die in it. But where would that leave his shipmates? Where would it leave Jukes? In the clutches of some creature who was so evil it wouldn't dare show its real face to them, that's where. Robert didn't know what Ballast or Mandryd had planned for Hook and his shipmates, but he knew it was bad.   
  
Yet, if they would not listen to him . . . what could he do?  
  
"Come with me, lad," Mullins offered. Maybe they could find a way to save the crew together. _And_, a small part of Mullins said, _if we fail to convince the others of danger, we'll still have the other . . ._  
  
Billy's eyes lit up with hope for a few seconds, then it was gone with the next blink. "I can't . . ." he said softly. "Mullins, you know I can't . . ." _If I do, Hook will hunt us both down and we'll be dancing the yardarm jig well into sunset._  
  
Robert closed his eyes. Jukes was right, he knew. Hook would not take kindly to Billy jumping ship and he'd only get the boy into trouble. But if this was goodbye, there was at least one thing he could do . . .   
  
"Lad, I want ye to have this," he said, reaching with one hand into his inside shirt pocket and pulling out something silver. A dark-green crystal shard hung from it and caught the sunlight, gleaming with emerald hues. "My d-- I mean -- someone very special made this for me. And it's brought me nothin' but luck for all me life. You need it more than I now. Ye've got somethin' unholy aboard this ship. And whether he be demon or I be truly insane--"  
  
"Robert, you are not insane . . ." Jukes began, but Mullins looked at him sternly and he broke off.  
  
"Lad, listen. Whether or not I be right about Ballast, he's trouble."  
  
"I agree with you on that, Robert."  
  
"Take it, then." Mullins let the silver pendant rest in Jukes' hand. The boy's fingers closed around it and he trembled slightly.   
  
As Robert began to climb down, Billy didn't know what to do. He stood watching, unable to tear his eyes away as the only man who could come close to being his family began to row to an unknown destination on the shores of Neverland.  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~ 

After some heckling with the innkeeper by the Dragon's Den Tavern, Mullins was able to afford rent for a small room upstairs. It had only one small window, which he opened immediately after entering the room, hot and bothered by his land-sickness. He could now smell the sea and felt a little comforted.  
  
His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes and laid back on the bed until the wave of nausea had passed. When at last his body got used to the ground not moving, he sat up and dragged a wooden box over to him, pawing through its contents until he found what he was looking for.  
  
At last he held up a portrait of a young girl with brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes. "Rosie," he murmured, letting his mind wander back to the dark places it had been avoiding for years.  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~

"Daddy!"  
  
A shrieking minature banshee came flying at Robert down the length of the dock. He gave a yelp of terror and crouched down, making the sign of the cross with his fingers. "Sarah! Avast, I'm bein attacked by an evil spirit! Call a priest, for pity's sake!"  
  
The banshee nearly fell over in a fit of giggles. "Daddy! I'm not an evil spirit! It's me, Rosie!"  
  
"Oh, it is!" Robert said, at last daring to open one eye. He looked her over, then swept the girl up with a cry of triumph and swung her around. "A good thing ye told me that, I woulda had you thrown in a tub of holy water." Mullins looked over at Sarah, his wife, who was looking at him rather dirty. "Now how about yer mother; is she her sweet self, or did she get possessed by some demonic witch again?"  
  
"Very funny," Sarah said, dryly.   
  
"Nope, she's not possessed," Rosie told him, oblivious to any tension between them.  
  
"Ah heh . . . are ye sure?" Robert whispered back to her. Sarah sighed, and rolled her eyes..   
  
"Robert, I know we fought the last time you came home . . . and didn't exactly part on good terms either . . ."  
  
"Aye, love, that we didn't. Me ears are _still_ ringing . . ."  
  
"Don't worry, I hid the frying pan," Rosie whispered in his ear. Mullins had to fake a coughing fit to mask his laughter.   
  
"Robert," Sarah's voice brought him back to the reason they had fought. "Are you coming home to stay this time?"  
  
Robert sighed and looked at Rosie. Her cornflower eyes were begging him to agree with Sarah and it was almost more than he could bear. "Sarah . . . Rosie . . ." There were a million things he had to say and all of them were no good here. "Let's go home, first. And we'll talk."  
  
Their home was in the center of Brooklyn, New York, in a part of town where urchins ran up and down the street, mostly barefoot and more often than not chased by the watch on duty. Smoke perfumed the sky and grit sparkled on the pavement. It wasn't pleasant, but it was affordable. And Robert's job was the only difference between Rosie and Sarah living under a roof or out in the street with the urchins, drunkards, and homeless.  
  
"I want to stay, I really do," Rosie could hear Mullins arguing with her mother. The sound of slamming drawers and cupboards in the kitchen meant she was busy, bothered, and most of all angry. Rosie only hoped she wasn't looking for the frying pan.  
  
"Then why don't you?"  
  
"It's my job---"  
  
"This is New York, there's businesses all _over_ the place. You can get a job here -- a better-paying one!"  
  
"It'll be a cold day in hell when I get trapped in one of those cursed sweatshops or those mills where they don't care if kids Rosie's age lose life or limb, so long as they don't lose money. Ain't you happy with the roof yer livin under now?"  
  
"Yes I am," Sarah said, miserably. "But you don't know what it's like to be without a husband, Robert! She tells me the children at school tease her and say that she doesn't have a father. Absolutely no-one looks at us with respect anymore. It's either pity or scorn."  
  
"Sarah . . ," Robert said softly. "It hurts me ta sail off and leave you . . . " 

"You've said that countless times before," Sarah's snapped. The activity in the kitchen had died down; a silence broken only by sharp 'plinks' as she set plates and silverware down on the table. "I need you here, Robert. So does Rosie. There must be something you can do that's close to home -- something that's not dangerous and that pays well . . ."  
  
"I do my best to come home every other month, save fer when I have long distances to cover. Some kids don't see their fathers for more than three times a year and they work right here in New York."  
  
There was a sudden bang; Sarah had slammed the last plate down on the table. "So that makes it right, Robert? That's how you rationalize leaving us? Because other kids and other wives suffer more than we do?"

Mother had that tone in her voice that meant she was about to smack something. Rosie wanted to stop or at least distract her, but she knew her parents would be upset if they knew she was listening to them instead of practicing her arithmetic.  
  
"Now, that ain't what I said . . ." Mullins argued weakly, trying to appease her.  
  
"I want more than this, why can't you understand that!?"

"Sarah! Ye oughta be thankful for what ye have!"

"Oh should I?" she bellowed. "Be thankful for a man who comes home whenever he feels like it! Thankful for having to live in a house that leaks when it rains! I'm tired of being looked down on because of your irresponsibility! Next time either come home to stay, or don't come home at all!" 

"Now, Sarah--" Robert tried to say something, but Sarah gave a growl of frustration and walked into an adjoining room to cool down. Rosie heard her father sigh deeply. "Some women I just don't get."  


~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ballast looked over his shoulder when he no longer heard the fat failure of a chef singing. Much to his delight, he saw that Cookson was out of the room, though for how long, he didn't know. If he was going to act now, he'd best do it quickly.

He sidled over to the stewpot over the cookfire and peered into its simmering contents. Immediately, he pulled back with a hand over his nose. Disastrous! The pirates wouldn't eat anything smelling like that! He waved his hand across it and muttered something archaic and foreign to the ears of any mortal who might have overheard him. The stench of whatever dead animal was stewing in bilge water was replaced by a somewhat normal and pleasant scent of meat, vegetables, and broth. "Much better," he murmured, at last able to unplug his nose. He reached into a pouch at his side and sprinkled some powder over the stew, stirring it once or twice with a ladle to make sure it dissolved.

"Oy!" yelled a voice directly behind him. Ballast dropped the ladle and spun around, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Had Cookson seen . . .?

"You no get any food before other shipmates!" Cookson berated him, shaking a chubby finger. Relieved, Ballast only sneered at him and moved back to washing the dishes, pots, and pans Hook had appointed him over. Ballast still seethed over that, but at least it got him where he needed to be. Stupid boy . . . this was _his_ job. 

Well, it didn't matter. There would be no more trouble coming from him or anyone after he and the other pirates tasted the special lunch he had prepared for them. Things were going exactly according to plan . . .

To Be Continued . . .


	2. Day of the Dead

Day of the Dead (cont.) "Rosie-love?" 

The girl opened her eyes and sat up in bed, seeing her father in the doorway. "Dad . . ." she whispered, sleepily. 

"I'm sorry. Ye were sleepin," Mullins began to back-track, closing the door as he went. 

"No, I wasn't," Rosie lied, stifling a yawn. Robert smiled and walked toward Rosie's bed, enveloping the girl in a hug. Rosie breathed him in deeply; she could still smell the ocean in his clothes. The ocean that he would probably be going back to in a couple of days. 

Her eyes filled with tears, despite her best attempts to blink them back. "When are you leaving?" she asked, before she could stop the words from slipping out. 

Mullins winced, feeling a stab of guilt in his heart. He put her and her mother through so much . . . he wondered grimly how long it would be before Rosie began to blame his absence for her problems the way Sarah did. While he was out at sea for all those years, he and his wife had become complete strangers. Robert hugged his daughter closer to him, unwilling to let her go 'lest the same thing happened between _them_. 

"Much sooner than I'd like, lass. Believe me." Mullins kissed the top of her forehead and leaned back to look down at her. "You allright?" 

"Yeah. Why?" 

"I know ye were listenin' to us fight." 

"Oh . . ." Rosie smiled sheepishly, an apology on the tip of her tongue. 

"Don't worry, you ain't in any trouble. And yer mother's right about some things . . ." 

"But not the frying pan," sang Rosie, smirking. 

"Aye, not the blasted frying pan." 

Rosie giggled and leaned into the warmth of her father's arms. She remembered something then and gave a small cry. "I made something for you!" She reached under her pillow and drew out something that sparkled. Mullins couldn't make it out in the dark room, so he moved his fingers over it when Rosie placed it into his hand. It felt like a chain with a smooth shard-like attachment. "What is it?" 

"Every night, I kiss it and pray for you to be safe. It's a protection charm. It'll keep you safe from bad things." 

"Like demons and monsters, eh?" 

"Yep!" 

"An' frying pans?" he asked hopefully. Rosie burst out laughing and Robert joined in. "Well, whether it does or doesn't, I treasure it all the same," he chuckled, slipping the pendant into his shirt pocket. He reached out and caressed his daughter's face. "I love ye, Rosie." 

"I love you too." 

"You get some rest. And don't you worry bout them kids at school. If anyone bothers you, you give 'em a good pop in the nose!" 

"I will," Rosie promised, lying on her back. Mullins brought the coverlet up to her shoulders and kissed her forehead. He turned back once more before he left to gaze upon her from the doorway. 

"G'night," he whispered. "May angels guard your sleep." 

"You too," Rosie replied softly as the door clicked softly shut behind Robert. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Lunch eez served!" yelled the chef of the Jolly Roger, banging on a pan to signal to the other pirates. Ballast brought up the bowls and spoons from the galley; yet another job that should have been a certain cabin-boy's. 

That certain cabin-boy was alternating between helping Mason carry piles of lumber across the deck, replacing rotten planks with new ones, and ever so often staring out at the sea forlornly. _He's not coming back, if he knows what's good for him, kid_, Ballast smirked inwardly and held a bowl under Cookson's ladle to hand to one of the approaching pirates. 

Starkey and Mason exchanged looks as Smee started in on his stew with relish; the bosun was perhaps the only living thing on the ship who could stomach Cookson's food without complaint. "Come on, old chap, we might as well get it over with. What do you say, Billy?" Starkey asked, nudging the young gunner. 

He shrugged miserably. "I don't know. I'm not hungry." 

"Ya need something in yer stomach, even if it's made by Cookson. Come on now, I'm sure it can't be worse than breakfast," cajoled Mason. 

"One can always hope," Starkey muttered under his breath. 

Billy smirked slightly, overhearing the British gentleman's comment. "Why not . . . I guess I could use the distraction, since we're lacking for nourishment." 

Cookson finished ladling out the portions of stew and once they had been handed all around, the men looked around apprehensively, as if daring one another to take the first bite. It was Starkey who braved the peril and his response was quite unexpected. "My gracious! Cookson, old boy, did you actually follow a recipe? This tastes marvelous!" 

The men stared incredulously. "Are you joking with us?" Mason rumbled, frowning. He decided to see for himself, and his response also was similiar to Starkey's. "Keelhaul me for a porpoise! This _is_ good!" 

Mason's words were all the encouragement Jukes needed to try for himself. His shipmates were right; this wasn't bad at all! His hunger kicked in and he drank from the bowl of stew. He hadn't swallowed more than three gulps when a sharp pain stabbed through his abdomen like a knife. Mason, Starkey, Cookson, and Smee looked up in alarm as Jukes dropped the bowl and grit his teeth in pain. 

"Jukes, you alright lad?" Mason asked, reaching over to the boy. 

He groaned in response and seemed to be struggling to keep both lunch and breakfast down. Ballast was staring at the boy's bandanna where a small green light was pulsing that only he seemed to notice. His eyes narrowed as Billy lost the struggle and dashed over to the railing, shoulders heaving as he got violently sick over the side. 

It seemed that Cookson's popularity had soared and fallen flat in the same instant. The men looked at him suspiciously and in unison set down their bowls, pushing them far away. Even Cookson was looking at the stew worriedly. 

Billy spat dryly over the side, feeling drained, exhausted, and completely humiliated. A thick hand rested on his shoulder blade. "You allright?" Mason's voice asked in amused concern. Starkey was beside him, his expression mirroring Alf's. 

"I'm sorry," Jukes apologized. "For once it tastes good and I had to go and ruin it for everyone." 

"Heaven only knows what Cookson put in that stew, Mr. Jukes. Making it taste good may just have been a lucky accident," Starkey sighed, shaking his head. 

"Are either of you feeling sick?" 

"No . . ." Mason replied, thoughtfully. "I'm fine. You, Starkey?" 

"Fit as a fiddle. Tis certainly odd, Mason . . . you and I were nearly finished and Jukes hardly had any . . . I'm starting to think it wasn't Cookson's food at all." 

"Yeah," Mason said, a sudden new edge to his voice. Billy looked up to see both of the older pirates staring hard at Ballast. "I don't think it was either, Starkey . . ." 

Billy's eyes widened as he realized what they were implying. "You don't think he did something . . .?" 

"I wouldn't put it past him. Whatever the case, he's not gonna be in charge of any kitchen duty for a while if I have any say in the matter."   
"I say, Jukes, what's this?" 

Starkey's fingers lifted up Jukes' bandanna a little to see a silver chain fastened around the boy's neck. Jukes closed his hand around the green crystal and was surprised to feel heat emanating from it, as if the sun had been shining fully on it. "Something Robert gave me," he muttered. 

"You miss him." It was more of a statement than a question, but Jukes affirmed it with a nod. 

"Truthfully, I would rather Ballast had been the one to leave than Robert." 

"I agree. The man's trouble, I tell you that. But for some reason, the Captain thinks he's valuable. Hook never would put up with such behavior if he thought otherwise," mused Starkey. 

"I hate him," growled Billy, and pushed himself away from the railing to see if he could stand without provoking further nausea. He must have looked unsteady because Mason guided him back to it. 

"Easy, boy. Ye don't have to move around just yet. We's still off duty for lunch." 

"Aye, despite the fact that there's no lunch for us to eat. I certainly don't trust any food with Ballast presiding over it," sniffed Ignatious. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Mullins' stomach growled painfully, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since the pitiful breakfast Cookson had prepared. If it there was one thing he wouldn't miss . . . 

He sat up, wondering if he should go down to the tavern and get some lunch. He didn't feel like eating or being sociable, or even being around people. The noises downstairs, however muted, told him that the tavern was crowded with its usual patrons and then some. The thought of elbowing his way through a sweaty room just to force-feed himself wasn't very appealing. His landsickness would probably come back anyway. 

He laid back on the bed with a sigh, feeling lethargic and cut off from the world. Perhaps he should take a nap? He dismissed that idea immediately. The room was too cold and his thoughts were not the kind one could sleep comfortably on. There were dreams and memories better seen awake than asleep and the ones in his head were those kind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Aye, Merry Christmas to ya too, lads!" Mullins called over his shoulder, as he walked down the gangway and onto the dock. Rosie and Sarah were not there to greet him, but he thought nothing of it since this was a surprise visit anyway. Traditionally, they would meet him here on Christmas morning, but this year he was going to be able to spend Christmas Eve with them as well. His heart praised the weather for being so placid this winter; letting him and his fellow crewmates finish their deliveries ahead of schedule. 

He made his way home in high spirits, pack bouncing against his shoulders and filled with gifts for his two girls. "Rosie!" he called, knocking on the door. "Sarah!" He couldn't wait to see their faces when they opened the door and saw him standing there. But after a few more knocks, Robert realized they weren't home. Unusual . . . it was about six o'clock and the streetlamps were already being lit. Where would they be at this hour? Perhaps at a friends house? Mullins reached for the door handle and jiggled it, knowing it would be locked anyway --- 

The door swung open at his touch. "Rosie?" he called. "Sarah!" They had to be home. They wouldn't leave the door unlocked if they had gone out . . . Something was very wrong here. 

A soft coughing came from one of the rooms, followed by the sound of retching. Mullins swung thedoor shut behind him and hurried toward the sounds. "Rosie? That you, love?" 

"Daddy . . ." came a pathetic mewl from the girl's bedroom. Heart beating in terror, Mullins opened the door and saw his daughter lying on her bed under the covers, face pale and specks of blood on her lips as well as the cream coverlet. 

Robert knelt at once by her side, feeling her forehead. She was burning like a kettle on the cookfire. "Where's your mother?" 

"Gone," coughed the girl. 

"Where?" 

"I don't know . . ." she moaned. Mullins gathered his daughter into his arms, rocking her gently and trying to calm her. Her body suddenly spasmed and shook with coughing. Robert winced at the severtiy; it sounded like she was tearing herself inside out. 

"My God, lass, how did ye get so sick? I need to get ye a doctor!" He set her down and started to get up, but Rosie clutched his arm. 

"Don't leave me. I'm scared. Mommy hasn't been back since the day before yesterday . . ." 

Robert's blood ran cold. "The day before . . .? Ye mean, she left ye alone for nearly three days? In this state?" The girl needed a doctor immediately; she was probably starving and dehydrated besides. But first he needed money . . . much more than he had in his knapsack if he was going to be able to afford a doctor's services. He had sent his wages home to Sarah and she always kept them in a small box, hiding it under the floorboards in their bedroom should a robber break into the house. 

Mullins entered the room and looked about him, noting that her bed was made as if she was never going to return. _Please . . . please tell me she didn't do what I think she did . . . _he fervently prayed to himself as he wrenched open the floorboards. He looked numbly down and let the sight before him confirm his worst fear . . . 

The money box was empty . . . completely. 

Inside his heart was screaming in denial, but his mind was fast and furious. She had abandoned Rosie. Fled for her own life for fear of catching whatever disease the girl had. His heart kept insisting it was impossible, that no mother would ever do this to her child, but his mind kept going back to all the times in the past in which Sarah had complained of living in such a small house, having no husband around to keep her company, falling to disgrace in the public eye, being borderline paupers. Perhaps it had all gotten too much for her and she had gone mad? But nothing could excuse this . . . 

Mullins let the floorboards fall back into place and all but ran back to Rosie's room. He stopped short in horror; the girl was lying on the floor writhing in what looked like a fit, choking on something. Hurriedly, he lifted her up to the bed and held her forward, putting a finger in her mouth to try and clear the obstruction in her throat. His hand came away soaked in blood. It was then Robert knew that she was dying. 

All he could do was hold her as she coughed up her life's blood onto the coverlet, turning it crimson. Do something, his mind screamed at him, although he knew not what he _could_ do. The sickness was inside her, a place he could not heal. At last she grew limp in his arms and Robert worried that she was dead. 

"Dad . . . I'm sorry," she choked out then. 

"Sorry? For whatever are ye sorry?" Rosie had nothing to be sorry for. Sarah did, but that was not Mullins' concern right now. He held her feverish body close, letting her head rest against his shoulder so he could hear her words, however faint they were becoming. 

"It didn't protect you . . . did it?" 

Mullins remembered the pendant in the pocket within his shirt and tears sprang to his eyes. "It did protect me, Rosie. It's I who failed ye . . . I should have been here. Sarah was right, I should never have left ye alone . . . I'm sorry . . ." 

Rosie didn't answer for a long time, breaths becoming farther and farther apart as the illness took over her small body. She felt a sense of peace overcome her. Perhaps because she was safe now that her father was near. She was just going to sleep for a while, that's all. "Goodnight, Dad . . ." she whispered, as the darkness pulled her in. Her eyes closed and her body became still. 

Mullins could hardly speak through his tears, knowing that her spirit had passed away in his arms, although to all appearances, she looked as if she was just tired and dreaming of awakening on Christmas morning. "May angels . . . guard your sleep . . ." he managed to choke, before his heart shattered in incomprehensible and senseless grief. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Robert listened half-heartedly as the priest peformed the graveside funeral service for his only daughter. His thoughts were torn between his grief over Rosie and his anger at Sarah. _Why?_ He asked himself over and over. Why had she done this? How he wished he could see her one last time, just to ask her that one question. 

_Never again,_ he swore darkly, as the priest spoke of Jesus accepting the bright spirit of Rosie Mullins into his arms to share with her the joy of Heaven. _I will never love again. And whatever the punishment for a mother who lets her own child die in pain and loneliness, may Sarah to feel it tenfold._

"Amen," finished the priest, making the sign of the cross over Rosie's small grave. 

Robert picked up a handful of earth and sprinkled it over the small coffin. He stayed and watched until the grave-diggers had filled the hole and smoothed it level with the rest of the churchyard ground. He felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned to face the priest's kind face. "I offer my condolences to you, my son. This ritual is one of the saddest I have ever been asked to perform on what was meant to be a joyful day for all. I can not begin to imagine how it tears at your own heart." 

"It's me own fault," the man murmured, lowering his head. 

"No, it is not," the priest reprimanded gently. "And before you argue, know that every parent who has ever buried a child has blamed themselves until their tears ran dry. It does naught but harm. You cared for your daughter and the heartache on your face lets me know that you loved her well." 

"But not well enough. I should have been there . . . could have stopped this perhaps . . ." 

"Ah yes, perhaps . . . it is a question you may ask yourself forever and a day. But if you cherish her memory always, she will never truly leave you." 

Mullins blinked back tears and nodded. "Thank ye, Father Dominic, for yer service and yer words. I'll be takin' my leave now." 

Without a backward glance, Robert set off toward the dock. He would always treasure Rosie's memory, but he swore he would forget Sarah's face; forget he ever loved her. And he would never come back to this city; now there were too many painful memories . . . he would sail elsewhere, loving no-one and fending only for himself. 

With a newly hardened heart, Robert set off into the world, alone and intending to stay that way for very long time. 

The priest looked after him sadly. To deal with such a tragedy was bad enough for any parent, but on Christmas . . . He was shaken out of his thoughts suddenly when he heard frantic voices calling his name. "Father Dominic!" Two men were trotting towards him, wheeling something resembling the remains of a woman in a wheelbarrow. 

"Good heavens!" cried the priest, putting a hand to his mouth. "What happened? Who is this?" 

"We just found her in a pile of melted snow in the alley. The watch didn't want to let us out of her sight since we were the ones who found her," spoke the younger of the two males breathlessly."We were privy to a lot of witness reports. It was all helter-skelter; I've never seen a watchman so upset. I only hope the rumors of the haven't reached the killer because I don't want the bastard to have any warning. Especially if there's a chance he'll be caught and brought to justice." 

"What did you hear?" 

"Exactly two nights ago," started the older man, "Some people living near the alley heard a struggle out in the streets. According to a lame old grandmother, a woman was begging someone not to take her money; her child was sick and she couldn't afford a doctor if he took it all. Whoever the heartless crook was he _did _take it all. She hadn't a penny upon her poor corpse." 

The priest shook his head numbly. "Tis a woeful day indeed for our Lord." 

"Aye, Father," the younger one sighed. "Death is everywhere it shouldn't be today . . ." 

Dominic looked behind him, letting his eyes rest upon the grave of the child he had just buried. "That it is, my son. God save us all." 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The hunger was becoming annoying. Mullins had reflected and relived the incident which had made him swear off love, women, and almost anything that had to do with land. The ocean was his home. He'd never been hurt on the ocean . . . not until today when Hook had cast him off deck like a bucket full of bilge water. Dimly, he wondered how Billy was taking it, especially with that lout Ballast . . . 

Mullins ended his train of thought abruptly. Lout? What was wrong with him? Ballast was no mere troublemaker, he was a demon! Worried now, Robert got off the cot and walked toward the small window. Ballast's constant shifting form had confused him, perhaps; made him doubt his own sanity. 

Also, Robert felt weaker; more docile and less ready for a fight. In fact, he felt more than just weak. He felt _old_ . . . 

"What's become of me?" he wondered aloud. "Have I really given up the ghost?" 

Behind him, he heard the door swing open. "Who's there?" he asked, turning around. The question was not who, but _what. _Mullins found himself staring at a small and rather transparent young girl with cornflower blue eyes and a strikingly familiar countenance. 

_No . . . no it isn't . . ._

The ghost stepped forward, reaching out for Robert, her mouth moving in an unmistakable 'Daddy'. Mullins shuddered, gasped, and promptly fainted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ballast fumed to himself as he helped a crest-fallen Cookson carry the stewpot and bowls down to the galley to wash them. That stupid boy! Not one pirate had finished his stew; and here he'd been hoping they'd clamor for seconds in order to get the full dosage of his 'medicine'. This was going to set things back. And what the hell was that glowing thing? 

"Ballast! What you waiting for? Dish-washing time!" yelled Cookson, tossing him a wet rag. Grumbling, Ballast set to work, scrubbing away. He was worried and knew he had good cause to be. The other pirates were suspicious of him; that much he could discern from the looks Mason and Starkey were giving him. Only Smee was idiotic enough not to make any connections. 

On the brighter side of things, Captain Hook hadn't seen the little display on deck and he had surely finished his stew with relish. The men may not be under Ballast's control yet, but if the Captain was, perhaps it was just enough . . . 

A loud crow filled the air for the second time that day. "Hoy!" Cookson yelped. He grabbed the nearest weapon which turned out to be a skillet, threw off his apron, and ran up toward the deck as fast as his chubby legs could go. Ballast heard other angry yells of recognition and realized that whatever was crowing was a threat to the Jolly Roger and he didn't want to be caught lollygagging about while the others fought it. 

He arrived on deck in the middle of a strange melee. Flying boys were fighting the pirates wooden sword to cutlass. The Captain himself was tangling hook and dagger with what seemed to be the leader of the other boys and at first glance, looking quite infuriated as he did so. But as Ballast stared, he realized that the man was enjoying himself. Emotions were rather peculiar for someone who had just eaten what Ballast had prepared . . . 

"Oy, Cookson," he yelled to the chef who was busy swatting Nibs away with the skillet. 

"Wat?! Is you blind? Can't you see Cookson ees busy?!" 

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle. How did the Captain like your stew?" Ballast asked, casually, looking for someone to fight. 

"Cookson no give Captain stew! Stew for salty dogs like yous! Captain get special entree lobster wrapped in grape-leaves and barbequed on forge!" 

Ballast cursed inwardly. So that's why Hook was unaffected. Ballast was back to square one. Hook noticed his lack of participation and glared. "Find yourself an opponent, ya brain-fried scurvy lummox, before I cleave your spine!" 

"Codfish, you're getting better at insults!" praised Peter, effortlessly ducking Hook's swinging sword. 

"Belay that talk, you mangy brat, and focus on the battle at hand!" roared Hook, though but for a split second he unmistakably grinned. 

Ballast was going to have to make a name for himself. He had no control over anyone thanks to that fool of a cabin-boy; he couldn't afford to lose more face than he had already. His eyes scanned hurriedly for something he could do to prove his worth and found it while he watched Jukes struggle to load Long Tom. With a shark's grin, Ballast made his way over to the cannon and thrust the boy aside. 

"Like I said, don't give a whelp a man's job," he smirked as Jukes struggled to regain his balance. When he did, the youth glared hotly at Ballast, then smirked back. 

"Well in that case, Ballast, what are _you_ doing here?" 

Ballast snarled and reached for the cannonball in Jukes' arms. "Fork it over, sonny. There's some dishes for you to wash in the galley like a good little cabin-boy." 

"If you want it, then by all means, take it!" Jukes growled, shoving the cannonball at Ballast. He fumbled to catch it, missed, and yelled in pain as it landed with a crunch on his foot. Billy winced. Now he was in for it. The cannonball would have surely broken a good half of the bones in the man's foot and Hook would have to pay compensation if Ballast was crippled. However, Ballast was no mere man . . . 

He finished hopping up and down in pain, then set his foot down and glowered at Jukes with unsurpassed fury. "You'll pay for that, boy! By the time I'm through with you, your own mother won't recognize you!" 

Jukes swallowed a yelp and did the only thing he could. He ran, with Ballast in hot pursuit. Caught up in the game of cat-and-mouse, the two did not notice the battle drawing to a close. 

"Allright boys, let's heed Wendy and give back what we borrowed!" 

"Aye, aye, Peter!" chorused the boys, dumping sail-cloth, rope, and rigging down on the pirates. Jukes lost sight of Ballast underneath a large piece of sail and looked up to see Slightly waving down at him. Billy barely had time to give him a quick grin before a loud roar and the sound of a sword slicing through material grabbed his attention. It was Hook rather than Ballast who had cleared himself a way out of the tangled mess, and the man delivered a string of curses that made a slight blush cross over Billy's face. He was going to have to remember some of those words; a few of them applied to Ballast quite accurately . . . 

"Ar revuar, Captain Codfish!" 

"It's 'Au Revoir' ya brainless ---GRAAAAAAAR!!! SMEEE!" 

"Present, to be sure, Captain!" chirped up the bosun, popping out of a coil of rope. 

"Where are the rest of the men?" 

Collective groans sounded about and one by one the pirates tossed aside various objects in their fight to unbury themselves from the heap that was formerly a decent-looking main deck. Billy looked at a thrashing, struggling form before him and after doing a quick head-count of those who had emerged, slowly backed away knowing who was preparing to burst forth next -- most likely with the full intent of splitting him stem to stern. 

"You'll pay for this boy!" the pirate screamed, and something sharp sliced through the cloth, ripping five long gashes in it. With a burst of shredded material, Ballast shoved and cursed his way out of the pile of debris and looked around for Jukes. 

"What is the meaning of this display?" Hook growled at him. The other pirates stopped their task of clearing the obstructions for repairs to listen. 

"That boy," hissed Ballast. "Decided to play a game rather than perform his duties. He deliberately disobeyed me and what's more, he struck out at me! Do you normally allow your cabin-boy to show such a display of disrespect to his elders? I weep to think how he must walk all over you." 

Hook moved dangerously fast and within the next second had the tip of his claw pressed against Ballast's throat. "What have you been doing since you came aboard this ship? What line of work? Shall I tell you, since you don't seem to have nearly half the brains of one of Cookson's entreès?" 

"The . . . duties of a cabin-boy," Ballast muttered. 

"Exactly. Methought it would teach you some humility since you decided to target what looked like easy prey. I seemed to have been mistaken in that regard. You have learned nothing but even more contempt. Thus you will not only take over his chores in the galley, but you will take over _all_ his chores, from morning till night, until I see an improvement." 

"But what about what he did?!" Ballast protested. "Surely you won't let him get away with--" 

"Gall and Brimstone!!!" interrupted Hook in frustration. "Are you a man or a sniveling school-boy?! If there is to be a punishment, it will be dealt out by _me _and no other!!! Is that _perfectly_ clear?" 

"Aye, aye," he replied sourly and Hook lowered the claw at his throat. 

"Cap'n . . ." Mason spoke up nervously. 

"What?!" the Captain snapped impatiently. 

"Well, er, I don't think it's a good idea to leave Ballast in charge of the food, that's all . . ." 

Hook studied Mason closely and saw that the man knew more than he was telling. "What happened, Mason?" 

After a look exchanged with Starkey, Alf told what had occured less than an hour before the battle. The look that Hook gave Ballast next would have made him for his life if he wasn't already immortal. 

Ballast was, however, afraid of other consequences than Hook could ever bestow upon him. If he failed Mandryd, he could look forward to an eternity of suffering. The more he watched himself falling from grace, the more he envisioned getting closer to the gates of his own personal hell. 

And if he had to enter it, Ballast swore vehemently, he was taking someone with him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The touch of a cold cloth was the first thing Mullins was aware of when he came to. The second thing was the hand that held it. And third, the fact that he could see the ceiling through the hand. 

With a muttered prayer, Mullins got up and scrambled away until his back pressed against the wall. Trapped. He was trapped in here with a . . . with . . . No, it couldn't be. He was hallucinating. It couldn't be . . . 

The girl stared at him and lowered her hand, letting the cloth drop to the floor. Mullins saw a sadness that went beyond Rosie's years and he shivered. 

"Rosie-love, what happened to you? Ye've . . . changed . . ." 

The girl's spirit moved closer to him and reached out to place a hand on his arm. Robert gasped as her 'flesh' connected with his; solid yet transparent, and the temperature of ice. Mullins took her hand in his and vainly tried to rub some warmth into it with his fingers, but Rosie shook her head and smiled. 

He let his hands drop in defeat. "Rosie, I'm sorry . . ." he whispered. 

Rosie looked at him for a few long moments, then lowered her gaze. She lifted a hand and pointed to the window, indicating the direction in which the Jolly Roger was harbored. With a prick of dread in his heart, Mullins remembered the danger his shipmates were in. . 

Everything was happening so fast and so strangely that Robert's head swam. His daughter was here, but she was dead and he could barely touch her; there was a demon aboard his ship after God only knew what . . . Mullins should have been pressed against the wall shivering in terror from it all, but he was surrounded by a strange calm. Perhaps it was shock . . . or the fact that if he didn't do something and started freaking out, his shipmates would lose their souls to a dark and malevolent force. 

Rosie's eyes were closed now and she seemed to be concentrating. As Robert watched, the ghost began to give a soft green glow. A glow that was reflected within the crystal around the neck of a sleeping young boy aboard the Jolly Roger. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ballast was laughing maniacally, his face melting and reforming into a creature that Billy had hoped never to face, even in his nightmares. The thing leaned close to him, licking away the foam on its lips, and Jukes cried out, trying in vain to back away. Something was behind him -- something hard and wooden -- and his arms would not leave his sides no matter how he struggled. 

He looked around for his other shipmates and saw them standing in a stupor, unsure of what to do . . . perhaps even of who they were. Ballast turned his back on Jukes and barked to them in a series of grunts and clicks that may have been a language and they stepped toward him at once. But not to attack . . . 

Jukes looked on in horror as one by one they kneeled before him, even Hook, and pledged obedience. Still speaking in the strange language, Ballast pointed at Jukes, then at Mason and Starkey. The two pirates rose and lurched unsteadily toward the boy, drawing their weapons. Billy's eyes widened in horror as he realized what the command had been.. 

"Shipmates, no! Mason!" he pleaded, "Starkey! Don't listen to him, he's a monster!" 

Not heeding him or his cries, Mason and Starkey lifted their weapons and thrust forward, piercing Jukes' body. Billy cried out in horror more than pain, and thrashed helplessly in his bonds as they continued to stab him mechanically. He saw the blood flow from him as if in a dream; even could taste it in his mouth. Ballast gave another sharp order and Billy wondered what was coming next . . . He winced as the swords withdrew from him and weakly lifted his head to see the demon's face. 

"Let him bleed to death," it said, this time so Billy could understand. "I want him to suffer." 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Oh, begorra!" muttered Smee when it was his turn to show his hand. "Go fish." 

Mason and Starkey groaned and Cookson burst out laughing, slapping his thigh. "Smee!" he chortled. "Foolish fish-head, we playing poker! Wat you mean 'go fish'?" 

"No . . . don't listen to him . . . please . . . he's a monster . . ." came a soft whimpering from one of the bunks. 

"An' now just who're ye callin a monster?!" Smee yelled at Cookson, reaching for Johnny Corkscrew. 

"Me not call you anything but fish-head . . ." 

"Relax, Smee, it ain't Cookson. It's Jukes. E's havin a nightmare or somethin. Billy!" yelled Mason from where he sat. "Billy, lad, wake up!" 

"I really wish Mullins wouldn't tell such frightful tales to the lad," sniffed Starkey. His eyes grew sad then as he realized Mullins wouldn't be telling any of his tales aboard the Jolly Roger again. Not unless the Captain allowed him to return. 

Mason shook Jukes awake and the boy's eyes snapped open. He looked around frantically until his eyes adjusted enough to recognize his surroundings. Trembling all over, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. 

"Ees you allright, boy?" Cookson asked. 

"Aye," he said faintly. "I . . . I just need to go above deck and get some air." Jukes stood up and avoiding the puzzled looks of his older shipmates, slipped out of the room. Mason shrugged and moved to sit down next to Starkey. 

"'E'll be fine." 

"Well," said Cookson, getting up and stretching. "Me better go get dinner ready. And this time, me make sure Ballast no come within ten feet of galley." 

"How can he? He's in the brig coolin' his heels, remember?" 

"Oh, that's right, eh? Cookson nearly forgot." The Chef shrugged and waddled toward the kitchen while Mason, Starkey, and Smee turned back to their game of poker. 

Looking into the pot, Cookson sighed and shook his head. "How they think this taste good? It need more salt and olive-wine. Ey, wat this?" Cookson bent down to pick up a pouch. He looked inside and sniffed. When he could smell nothing, he reached into it and pulled out a pinchful of powder. He licked it, tasted it, and realized that it wasn't half bad. "Ah, perfect! Tis 'special spice', eh?" Cookson dumped a good half of the pouch's contents into the stew and put the rest aside for later. 

He didn't wonder where or who the pouch's previous owner had been, didn't care that below in the brig, Ballast was cursing and searching frantically for something he had dropped. That he snarled in defeat, realizing he had probably dropped it up on the deck. That his eyes glowed suddenly and the keys hanging on the wall flew over to him and landed in his open palm. Cookson stirred the powder into the stew, thought of a song, and began singing it badly in italian. 

Meanwhile, Billy watched the sun sink below the horizon of Neverland. He was surprised he had fallen asleep before dusk; usually he never slept deep enough to dream until lights out. And when he had nightmares, he was usually able to shake them off. But this one was staying. Admittedly, it had been horrible enough to last an impression, but it was impossible. His shipmates would never turn on him. And Hook would NEVER bow to another man like a mere servant. Yet Mullins had seen a demon when he looked at Ballast . . . and Ballast should be crippled from that cannonball, but the way he had chased Jukes across the deck proved that he wasn't even limping. 

He looked down as he saw a glimmer of green light and his eyes widened as he saw the pendant as its source. _What the . . .?_ Curious, he picked it up. The red circle of the sun was but a faint line of horizontal light; it couldn't be a reflection . . . It flashed brighter suddenly, and Billy gasped as he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. 

"Nice view, isn't it?" commented a cold voice. 

Jukes spun around to come face-to-face with Ballast. "How'd you get out?" the boy demanded, hand reaching for his dagger. 

"The Cap'n decided my little 'time-out' was over. He told me that perhaps we should 'talk' our differences out." Ballast advanced toward Jukes. "You know, make up for all those times we fought." 

Not liking the man's tone, Jukes backed up. "If you harm me in any way, the Captain will have your throat in a noose before sunrise, cully!" 

"My, my. Someone thinks their hide is worth far more than it is." 

"Stay away from me," Jukes hissed. 

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to kill you, boy," Ballast said, leaning close to him. "I want you to suffer," he whispered. 

_I want him to suffer . . . _Billy felt chills as the line was spoken with just as much venom as it had contained in his dream. Without warning a fist slammed into his abdomen sending pain rippling all the way up to his heart. Gasping, Jukes fell to his knees, arms wrapped around his midsection. He struggled to take in a breath and felt something hot against his chest. The pendant was glowing, this time so brightly that it made spots dance in his eyes. Which is why, when he looked up at Ballast, he at first doubted what he saw. 

It was so horrible, Jukes didn't have the voice to scream. It was incomprehensibly terrifying, not because of its ugliness - though the twisted, foam-flecked demon's face was ugly enough to make Hook's mother a mermaid's equal - but because of the pure evil in its yellow rolling eyes; the death it meant for all who crossed it. Jukes whimpered, too captivated by the sight before him to see the kick aimed for his chest, slamming him against the wood of the ship's side. "_What are you!?!_" Billy screamed with fear and pain. Ballast paused, seeing the terror on the boy's face. Shaking, Billy covered his eyes to avoid looking at the demon's face. It had been bad in his dream, now it was unbearable. 

Ballast stared hard at the boy. _He knows . . . but how did he see?_ Ballast wasn't aware of dropping his mask of humanity as he had to frighten and upset Mullins. Somehow this boy had seen past the barrier. Which meant that Ballast could not afford to let him live - or rather, die the slow painful death he had planned earlier. Such a pity . . . 

Having been stripped of his sword, the creature let his hand split and lengthen into five long claws. _Get out of here! _screamed a voice in Jukes' mind and he looked up just in time to see the ghastly weapon raising above his body. _Hurry!_

Jukes scrambled to his feet and darted past Ballast, taking the demon by surprise. It was short-lived as Ballast regained his footing and lunged after the boy, howling in mad blood-lust. The five-taloned hand raked viciously at him, nicking his skin but not close enough to tear the cloth. The few seconds of Ballast's hesitation had spared Billy's life . . . for the moment. There was only one place for him to go, and he would be leaping blindly into it; not knowing whether he'd land safely or in the jaws of the Croc. Fate was with him, however, and it was merely the night-chilled water that rised up to enclose over him. 

Jukes began kicking with all his strength toward the shore. Ballast cursed and decided to pursue him later. Jukes was no threat at the moment. He had other problems. 

Time was running out for him, and fast. 

On to [Part 3][1] (coming soon!) 

   [1]: http://dendraica.california.com/inactive.html



	3. Day of the Dead

"I . . . Rosie, I still don't understand all this. How are ye able to help me? I didn't know ghosts had such powers . . ." 

The girl sought to find the words to answer her father's questions, but the effort proved wasted as she realized she had no voice to speak them with. Mullins put a hand on her shoulder and drew her close to him. 

"Can't ye talk?" 

Rosie shook her head and looked at him forlornly. Robert looked about him and reached over to a box of his belongings. He dragged it over, searching through it until he found a ledger, inkwell, and quill. He opened the ledger to a blank page, dipped the quill in the ink and handed it to Rosie.

"Ye remember how you'd always practice writing with me? Write, Rosie," he urged her. "Tell me what's happening." 

Her hand shaking, Rosie let the pen hover over the paper. She was nervous, Robert could tell, and probably didn't know where to begin in this strange tale. He might have frightened her too. "Rosie, if ye can't write, then draw. Ye always loved drawing." The girl seemed to respond to this, and the ink was suddenly mapping out figures on the paper. 

Robert waited until the quill held still and then lifted from the paper. Rosie pushed the ledger toward him and pointed to a drawing of string and a long pointed rectangle attached to it. It looked like . . . "The pendant ye made?" The girl nodded and began to draw again. 

This time it was a very familiar-looking stick figure with wild black hair going every which way. She drew a line from the figure to the pendant. "Aye, I gave it to him," Robert murmured. Rosie nodded. She drew another figure, this time of her, and also pointed to the pendant. "Ye want it back?"

Rosie shook her head in despair. She looked down at the paper, thinking hard, then suddenly, inspiration struck. She drew a halo and wings coming out of the new figure and once again, pointed at the pendant. This time Mullins caught on immediately. "You're protectin' the lad!" he exclaimed, and Rosie nodded, overjoyed she had gotten the message across. 

"From Ballast?" 

Rosie nodded and set to work again. She made another stick figure, this time with pointed ears and sharp teeth. Then she made another. And another. And still another, until she had a page full of them. She turned the page, and Mullins reached out a hand to stop her. "It's alright, lass. I get the message," he said faintly. "So Ballast ain't the only one . . . " 

The girl shook her head solemnly. 

"Aye, that's right. I should've known it was more . . . Ballast is just the worker bee for the whole hive. But we'll get 'em. We'll find some way to rescue me shipmates. Won't we?" he asked tentatively. 

Rosie shrugged and crossed her fingers for luck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Fighting exhaustion, Billy raced as fast as he could, tearing his way past nests of vines and hidden roots that sought to trip him up. All he could see were the demon's eyes burning into his soul and a face leering, wavering, melting . . . it was made even more horrible at the fact that it was real. That he had actually witnessed something worse than one of Mullins' story creatures . . . What would Robert think of him anyway? Running away like a scared child, leaving his shipmates . . . Jukes stopped in his tracks. 

"I left them," he whispered in horror at himself. He had been so terrified . . . "What have I done?!" he cried in anguish. _Coward! You should never have left them!_

He turned in the direction he had come. He had to go back and do what he could. Nobody on land could help him -- unless by some miracle he found Mullins. Jukes cursed himself bitterly for not believing the older man. He _had_ to find him! 

But he didn't know where Mullins was, and that was the problem. _Do I have time to search the whole island? I know he couldn't have left . . . it's near impossible to leave without magic--_ A flash of green light interrupted his thoughts and Billy looked down at the pendant once again.

_What is this thing?_ he wondered, taking off his bandanna. He reached for the clasp of the chain to take it off so he could look at it better, when the crystal did a surprising thing. It floated up and over his shoulder and began tugging him backwards. "What in the name of Guy Fawkes?!" 

Billy went where it was tugging him curiously. It was leading him back through the forest and away from the Jolly Roger. "But I need to return to them!" Jukes almost argued but didn't because there was nobody to argue with. 

Well, he reasoned, it's done nothing but good since Robert gave it to me. With any sort of luck . . . it might lead me to Mullins. Or at least something that can get rid of that creature . . . 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was simple really. All he had to do was explain to Mandryd that they weren't under his control yet. Perhaps he could blame Scurvy, the one who had supplied the powder. Yes, the powder was defective. Scurvy was used to getting blamed; Mandryd wouldn't put it past the younger demon to screw something up. In any case, Ballast couldn't take the fall for this. The consequences were too dire. This was more of a last chance for him than any normal mission. 

Whether he managed to blame it on Scurvy or not wasn't what he wanted to dwell on. Ballast wanted to give his leader good results; to get back in his graces and stay above Hell for many more centuries. But for the last time, how?! If he could manage to put the powder in their food again . . . but he had lost the pouch! After he had failed to kill the boy, he had put his efforts into searching for it and came up empty-handed. The pouch was gone, perhaps kicked thoughtlessly over the side into the briny . . . unless . . . 

The galley. Had he left it in there? Convenient if he had; he'd be able to find it and taint their food all in one sitting. But he couldn't be caught; it would raise far too many questions. Ballast knew he couldn't kill any of them outright; not unless they were immediate threats. In the worst case scenario, they'd hack him apart, see him pull back together, realize the truth of what he was, and try to escape. Then things would be an awful mess. 

Things were an awful mess already, Ballast thought to himself as he crept down the ladder to the galley. Little did he know that the men were just finishing what Cookson had prepared for dinner and already getting up to avoid being offered seconds. Ballast happened to blunder right into Alf Mason. Oh great, this is all I need . . . 

"Hey! How'd you get out!" growled Mason. Starkey, Smee, and Cookson's attention was brought to the hallway in which Mason stood before a very desperate-looking Ballast. 

"The Captain let me out," he answered as nonchalantly as possible. They didn't buy it. His face hard, Mason reached out and grabbed Ballast's left arm, while Starkey held his right in arrest. Ballast hissed wildly and struggled against them as they began to drag him towards the ladder, no doubt to confirm what he said to the Captain. Why oh why were the Fates being so hard on him?! Were five souls really too much to ask for?! 

"Let go of me!" yelled Ballast and stumbled against the wall as his request was immediately obeyed. Mason and Starkey had a blank look about their faces and were standing stock-still. Ballast blinked and waved a hand in front of Starkey's face. No reaction. He snapped his fingers at Mason. Nothing. Not even a blink. 

Curious, he moved past them and they made no move to stop him. Smee and Cookson were also looking confusedly at their shipmates. "Oh begorra, an' what do ye suppose happened?" 

"Me thinks Mason an Starkey eez hypnotized, no?" 

Ballast looked toward them next. "Move against the wall," he ordered. Smee and Cookson obeyed without a word of protest. In the same instance, their eyes became like those of Starkey and Mason's. Ballast smiled. His smile became wider and wider until it turned into a giggle, then a high-pitched laugh, then an all-out shrieking cackle. Still laughing like a tomfool, Ballast ran to the galley kitchen and looked around for what miracle had saved him. He found the pouch that Cookson had emptied half the contents out of and laughed even more wildly. His work was nearly done. 

All that was left was the Captain. 

Hook looked up as his cabin door banged open. "In there," Ballast hissed, pointing at him, and Mason and Starkey lumbered in, hands outstretched to subdue him. "What the blazes?!" Hook yelled, standing up. The two men grabbed his arms and held him in arrest. Short Tom screeched in alarm and winged his way to freedom out the open window.

"What do you think you worthless slubberdegullions are doing?!" Hook spat as Mason and Starkey began to drag the bewildered Captain out of his cabin and onto the deck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy staggered toward the light of the tavern ahead, wiping smudges of dirt and disentangling leaves from his hair. He heard the chortling laughter of the bar's patrons within. It sounded like a moderately rowdy crowd. 

The door opened and he casually stepped aside as a beefy bartender literally threw a drunk out on his bum. "Don't ye be causin trouble in my inn, ye lout!" roared the man, then caught sight of Jukes making his way up the steps. 

"Lad, this ain't no place fer . . ." _Children_, he was about to say, but trailed off when he recognized Jukes. "I heard of ye. You're one of Hook's lads aren't you? The gunner, right?" 

"Aye. Would you know where a man named Robert Mullins is?" 

"Mullins! Checked in this morning by me brother. I wish I had the honor . . . ye boys are legends among us!" 

Billy smiled, but then shook his head. Now was not the time for appreciation. "Sir, it's a bit of an emergency. Please show me where he is." 

"Well, sure, lad. Fer a price . . ." 

Jukes' eyes widened. "What?!" 

"Oh, no? Tis a pity, then. I don't think I remember which room . . ." the bartender made a show of clucking and shaking his head. 

Billy understood now. _'Legends among us' indeed. He was buttering me up, that's what. _"Look,I don't have any money," he muttered. 

"Ah. Well, ye ken give me that rock around yer neck, aye?" 

"This?" Jukes asked, touching the crystal. "No, sir. I'll find him myself, thank you." Billy walked past the bartender who frowned and went back to work. 

"He'll never find the right room," the older man snickered. "Not before walkin' in on one of them scoundrels and his lady friends. Won't that be entertainment, now?" 

 Billy walked up the stairs until he reached the level where the tenants of the inn left. He sighed. "Well, Mullins is in one of these rooms. Let's hope I get the right one." 

Jukes raised a hand to knock at a door, then decided against it when he heard heavy breathing and feminine moans of pleasure coming from the other side. He grimaced and moved on. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Impudent curs," snarled Hook while Mason and Smee tied him to the mast. "Smeeee! Untie me this instant!" 

Ballast tsked and walked over to the Captain. "James, James, James. You are in no position to make demands." 

Hook turned his infuriated gaze on Ballast and snarled. "What is all this? What have you done?! They're as listless as walking corpses!" 

"They're as _good_ as walking corpses. When Lord Mandryd gets here, so will you _all_ be." 

"Mandryd," murmured Hook. "So, he is behind this as well." 

"Aye, that he is," chortled Ballast. 

"What are you? Spirit or demon?" 

"My dear James, I can assure you that I am as solid as the wood against your back. A demon, you called me? Such a harsh word you humans gave us . . . but yes. I suppose we do fit into the category." 

"What business have you with us?" growled Hook. 

"Simple. We were part of Neverland once, long ago. Before Peter Pan came, we had our own way with the place. Made our own creations. The few faeries who opposed us; well, we drank their magical essence like fine wine. Aye yes, faeries are immortal, you might argue. We didn't kill them. They live on, the miserable wretches, powerless and small. Pets, you might call them, for our young. 

"But it all couldn't last . . . the same force that dragged you pirates to Neverland also dragged us out. Yet, not _completely_. Now we exist between worlds in limbo. Only once a year can we return to Neverland - on this day, while the spirits of the dead stream in to join the living. When they leave, we must depart with them. 

"We are very hungry, you understand. It's been a while since we tasted the soul of a sinner. The darker the sins, the richer the flavor . . ." Ballast leered at him, and Hook felt as if his soul was being searched. "But you, I will save for Mandryd alone. Starkey!" 

Ignatious shuffled forward with the pouch of powder and handed it to Ballast. Hook sneered. "That?" he scoffed. "Is that what you used to bewitch my crew?" 

"Aye, and so shall it be used on you!" 

Hook smirked. "No magic has power over me. Not this world, nor _yours_." 

"Are you so sure?" the demon asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well then. It would have been a mercy to reduce you to your crew's state. But if you really wish to feel the full sensation of your soul being devoured . . . yes. Mandryd may actually prefer that." 

The Captain of the Jolly Roger turned away while Ballast's harsh laughter rang through the air. 

Above, in the crow's nest, a small green faerie bit his lip. "Ohhh, this is very very bad. I knew something wasn't right." With a flit of dragonfly wings, the faerie took to the air and flew off towards the forest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Robert glanced out the window, watching as the fog rolled in off the ocean. Rosie was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed and glowing as she had been once before. Mullins could not shake her out of whatever trance she was in; though he had tried. Finally he had decided that it was futile, and that he may as well go over any possibilities of rescuing his shipmates from the demons. 

A shuffle and a door banging out in the corridor made him turn around. "Rosie? What --?" Mullins asked as his daughter stood up suddenly. "What is it?" 

The girl pointed to the door and Robert walked toward it. Loud arguing was heard without; on of the voices seeming very familiar. 

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but---" 

"Buzz off, kid!" roared a man's burly voice. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for Robert Mullins . . ." 

"Ain't me, boy. Now git!" 

At the sound of his name, Mullins opened the door and Billy turned to see him. "Robert!" he cried in relief and ran toward him. The older pirate grabbed  him by the arm and pulled him in the room, shutting and locking the door. 

"Ye jumped ship?" 

"Yes. I had to, or that demon would've--" 

"Thank God, you're alright!" 

"It's mercy you are as well! But for how long our luck will hold I don't know ---" Billy broke off with a choke as he stared at something past Mullins. 

"What is it?" Robert asked in alarm. Seconds after the words were out of his mouth he realized who Jukes had seen. "Oh." 

"G-g-ghost . . ." 

"Lad, stay calm. Tis no evil spirit you see." 

Billy took a deep breath and Rosie smiled at him from where she stood. He sighed shakily. Mullins was right. She was only a little girl; not a spook with chains, missing limbs, or hideous features like Patch. Though it was a shock that he could see right through her, the girl wasn't nearly as frightening as his encounter with Ballast had been. 

"How do you do, miss?" he asked, politely. She nodded back, but did not answer. "Who is she, Mullins?" 

Robert held back a sigh. "My daughter. Her name is Rosie and she died at the age you see her now. She was ill. And her mother . . ." Robert bit his tongue. No. He might still be angry with Sarah, but he would not slander her before Rosie. "Nevermind. Billy, how did you come here? How did you know where I was?" 

Jukes numbly reached for the pendant, still staring at the girl. A million questions were on his mind. _Mullins' had a daughter? Had a wife? But he hates women_--- something in the way Mullins had begun to speak about the girl's mother suddenly registered in the boy's head. He decided to let it lie; most obviously it was a very touchy subject since Robert had avoided talking about it. 

"Did you say your daughter made this?" he said. 

"Aye, that she did. Filled it with her bedtime prayers and a kiss every night," Mullins spoke softly. He looked at his daughter and smiled so wistfully, it tore at Billy's heart. The boy swallowed and continued. 

"It would glow brightly when I was in danger of any sort from Ballast. It protected me well and led me to you." 

Robert stared at his daughter a few moments longer. "Thank you, love," he whispered, then turned to Jukes. "Come, boy. We're going back." 

"Back? To the ship?" 

"We have to find a way to open their eyes. To make them see what lies in their midst." 

"But Robert -- Hook said he would kill you if you ever set foot on deck!" the boy cried distraught. 

"I know, Jukes, but how would we live with ourselves if we let those demons win without a fight? We'll find a way to beat them. Robert Mullins never deserts his shipmates." 

"You're right. And neither do I," Billy replied, shaking his head firmly. 

Rosie stepped forward and put a cold hand on Robert's arm, telling him something with her eyes. 

"You coming too, lass?" Mullins asked. Rosie nodded. "Then let's be off. I tied the longboat off at the dock in front of the tavern. With any luck none of the blaggards livin' here stole it." 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tink was dreaming that she and Peter were all alone. No Wendy, no Mermaids, no annoying green faeries shaking her awake . . . 

"Tinkerbell! Pssst! Tink!" 

"What?!" she yelped, sitting up and swatting at the hands on her shoulder. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes and let her eyes adjust enough to sharpen the green glowing fuzz in front of her eyes. "Wisp, if that's you with another one of your 'Midnight Serenades', I'm going to _kill_ you." 

"We have trouble on the Jolly Roger," Wisp said, seriously. 

"We _always_ have trouble on the Jolly Roger. That's where the pirates live. Go away!" Tink flopped back on the bed, but Wisp once again resumed shaking her. 

"Tink, this is more serious than the pirates! Demons have taken over--" 

Tinkerbell sat right back up again. "What don't you understand about GO AWAY?!" she squawked. 

Her voice was loud enough to wake Tootles who sat up and asked what was going on. Wendy opened her eyes and looked around for what was causing the noise. She heard two voices arguing in Tink's apartment and yawning, pulled back the petal curtain. "Tink? Who's in there with you?" 

"Wisp, that's who!" Tink said crossly then turned back to him. "Do you even know what TIME it is?" 

"Yes! An hour and a half before midnight. Which means we don't have time for this!" he replied. 

"What's going on?" Peter asked, stretching. 

Wisp flew out of the apartment and landed on Wendy's outstretched hand. "A demon has taken over the Jolly Roger, and is holding Hook captive. They called him Ballast, and he spoke of other demons being caught between the world of Neverland, and the world outside. They're going to steal the pirates' souls! 

"And Tink, you should have heard him talking about how he drained the faeries of magic . . . it was horrible." Wisp's wings drooped and he shuddered. "Those poor things . . ." 

Tinkerbell, in the meantime, had gone very pale. She had heard of these creatures . . . 

"I'm not letting them do that to Hook!" Peter said, defiantly. 

"But Peter!" John protested. "It's nearly the middle of the night and we've been flying almost all day!" 

"I'm tired!" echoed Tootles. 

"Me too," Michael yawned. 

"Very well. You boys can stay behind if you like." 

"Peter, you can't go!" Tink cried, finding her voice at last. "Those things are dangerous! They're immortal, you can't kill them!" 

"Since when do you have to kill anything to beat it? Hook is still alive and we've defeated him countless times." 

"Well, maybe this is different!" Tink shouted, but Peter had already flown out of the Underground House, followed by the other lost boys. She gave a small groan of frustration and flew after him, Wisp tagging along behind. 

"What can we do to stop them, Tink?" he asked her. 

"Forget the pirates, I'm stopping Peter from getting involved!" 

"What?!" Wisp cried, and stopped flying. Tink didn't wait for him, so he had to struggle against the night wind to catch up to her. "You're just going to let this happen?" 

"We finally get a chance to get rid of Hook and Peter wants to rescue him! Sometimes that boy is unbelievable!" 

"I think his heart's in the right place," Wisp countered. 

Tink looked at him in surprise. "That's the first nice thing you've ever said about him." 

"Well, what will happen if the demons take the souls? They'll become even stronger! And next year, they'll have enough to attack the people of Neverland; maybe even Small Monday Island, or the Faerie Palace! Like it or not, we're in this up to our wings!" 

Tinkerbell opened her mouth to argue, and found that she had nothing to say. 

~~~~~~~~~~~   
    
 "Blast this cursed fog," grumbled Robert, peering upwards. The mist was so thick, he could scarcely see the top of the ship's railing he was ascending the rope ladder towards. Removing his hat, Robert peered over the edge of the railing and located Ballast at the starboard side, giving orders to the men. Hook was tied with his back to the mast, looking absolutely furious. 

Mullins furrowed his brow as the demon muttered a sharp order to Cookson and Mason to get planks. Much to his dismay, the men obeyed without a whim. "Witchcraft," he hissed, and pulled himself quietly over the side. Keeping a hand on his sword and an eye on Ballast at all times, Robert slipped behind some barrels. Once hidden from Ballast's view, he motioned to Jukes to do the same. The boy made it over to him quietly and Rosie appeared beside them once she too was out of the demon's sight.

Robert quietly pointed to the Captain and together he and Jukes crept their way over to him.

"They'll be here soon," Ballast mused aloud, and the two pirates froze in their steps, wondering if the demon wasn't addressing them. "Mandryd will be pleased, yes. He won't care about the loss of the boy's soul; children's souls taste disgusting. No flavor to them; untried apples. The older man . . . a dark one, yes. He may have been worth something; but he would have ruined it all. Yes, Mandryd will understand."

"Loss of the boy?" Hook said then. Mullins and Jukes tensed, expecting Ballast to turn his head and see them. But the demon fortunately kept staring into the fog. "What did you do with Jukes? I do not see him among my men."

"Ah yes. Do not worry for him, Captain. The coward fled to save his worthless hide. A true shipmate to the last, eh?" Ballast snickered. Jukes bristled but kept his mouth shut. The betrayed look on Hook's face made his heart sink. The fact that the Captain _believed_ the lousy scug hurt more than words could tell. "I feel so deeply for you. You defended the lad and how does he repay you? By running. And leaving you to lose your soul."

Hook looked angrily to his right, turning his face away from Ballast, then froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Billy and Robert moving silently towards him. A tug at his bonds made a grin spread over his face. Mason and Cookson returned with two planks. 

A light blinked from within the blanket of fog and seconds later, the prow of a ship pierced through it, led by the figurehead of a gallows tree, corpses rattling in the breeze. 

"Ready the ship for boarding. Smee! Get over here. What are you doing?" Ballast yelled at the bosun who was tangled in rope and turning in aimless circles with one of the planks. The demon gave a bark of disdainful laughter. "Not even turning him into a zombie improves his intelligence. Wouldn't you say so, Hook?" 

Ballast turned and was greeted with the sight of empty bonds around the base of the mast. "What?! What happened?!?" A feral war-cry alerted him to dodge out of the way as a sword sliced past, narrowly missing his ear. Hook swiped at him again, and Ballast was hard-pressed to keep out of harm's way. Misfortune abode as the Captain plunged his sword into the wood of the railing. By the time he managed to free it, Ballast had already formed his hand into five talons and was prepared for bloodshed.

Before a drop of blood could be spilled, unearthly howls turned both their heads. Ballast grinned as several demons leapt or flew across the gap between the two ships. The first of them spied Smee, still struggling with the rope. Leering, it picked the bosun up by the front of his shirt and drew in a long deep breath. Something white and transparent flew like fog into the demon's nostrils. Robert cursed and reached for a dagger in his belt. 

Smee hung limply from the demon's claws, not knowing nor caring that his soul was being sucked away like wisps of smoke from a pipe. A dagger ripped through the flesh of the demon's fingers, causing it to drop Smee in startled surprise. With a snarl, it turned on Mullins and made a beeline for the Brooklyn pirate. "Never thought I'd risk me own life fer that idjit, but 'ere we go," Robert growled, holding his ground. 

Rosie covered her eyes behind the barrels as Jukes was sent flying backward into a pile of debris left over from the earlier attack of the Lost Boys. The demon that had thrown him gibbered excitedly and bounded toward him on all fours, eager to taste flesh and blood. Its hand gripped the pendant, yanking the dazed pirate up. Immediately after, the demon screeched and stumbled back, watching stupefied as its hand melted off. Billy gagged and fought to keep from throwing up as he picked up his weapon. 

"What happened?" he muttered, watching the demon gripping its stump and howling in maddened pain. 

"Avast, sinister beings!" yelled a young and very familiar voice. Jukes turned around to see Peter Pan and a few other Lost Boys heading straight toward the ship, weapons drawn. 

"Watch out, Bill Jukes!" yelled one of the Twins and too late, Billy felt the demon's remaining hand close around his throat. Slightly swooped down and aimed a kick for the demon's face. The claws left the pirate's throat and reached up to grab Slightly's booted foot, yanking him down and slamming him on top of a few barrels. Slightly cried out in pain and the sadistic creature laughed darkly. 

"Making my mistake, are we?" yelled Jukes, and neatly impaled the demon on his sword. Chills ran up his spine as the demon continued laughing. 

"Foolish boy," it hissed. "We are immortal. Nothing can kill us! You're helpless!" So saying, it turned its attention back to Slightly, who spat defiantly in its face. A scream erupted from its mouth as it fumbled to wipe away the spittle from its burning face.

"What the . . .?" 

"I-I have no idea, cully," Jukes answered, faintly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mason and Starkey standing in a trance as two demons stood before them, inhaling their souls. "Come on!" Billy yelled, running towards them. Slightly got up shakily and followed. 

The first demon spun around snarled, then shrank back at the two boys approaching. "Why are they afraid of us?" Slightly wondered. Curious, he made a fist and punched the first demon in the abdomen. With a sickening slurp, Slightly's arm went through the demon's body and it convulsed around him. With a scream of horror, Slightly stumbled back, arm coated with sticky entrails. The second demon, equally horrified, made quick its escape.

"All I did was touch it!" the lost boy cried, shaken. 

"It was a horrible sight . . ." Jukes agreed, his voice trembling. "But come on. We have to get these men out of the way." Gently taking Mason's arm, Billy escorted him down the stepladder to the galley while Slightly did the same for Starkey.

Wisp had seen everything and while he watched the battle rage, he knew it was the only way the Lost Boys could win this battle quickly and before any of their number got killed. 

"Peter!" Wisp yelled flying to the leader of the Lost Boys who was busy fighting Captain Mandryd. Of course, the silly boy had decided to go for the toughest and meanest looking demon in the bunch. The big showoff . . .

"I'm a little busy right now!" Peter Pan grunted, dodging another blow. 

"I know how you can beat him! All you have to do is touch-- aaaaaaaaaugh!" Wisp yelped as a yellow-skinned demon's hand closed around him. 

"Faerie!" it snarled happily. "Make good snack!"

"Oh no," fretted the green faerie, struggling to get free. The demon licked its lips, then leaned its face close to Wisp; the faerie was able to smell what animal it had last eaten alive. Wisp whimpered and closed his eyes, feeling the magic leave his body as the demon began to drain his powers. Suddenly, the demon sneezed several times. Wisp felt hands grab him underneath the arms and wrest him free of the confused creature's grip.

"Are you alright?!" Tink yelled over the din. 

"You saved me!" Wisp cried, hugging her.

"WISP! LET GO OF ME THIS INSTANT OR YOU'LL WISH I HADN'T!!!"

"Begone from my ship, you vermin!!!" Hook yelled as he cleaved off Ballast's arm. Ballast sneered and bent down to retrieve it. Before Hook's astonished gaze, the flesh from the stump funneled upward and stretched itself like putty to bind the flesh between shoulder and arm. 

Ballast's triumph was cut short when he heard Mandryd squalling in agony like a slaughtered pig. Peter had grabbed Manryd's wrist and was holding on, perplexed - or perhaps frozen in revulsion - as the demon Captain began to melt into a puddle. "What?" Ballast said in disbelief. All around him, the demons were fighting . . . on the _defense._ Puddles of flesh and bone lay in stringy residue across the deck and before Ballast's eyes, turned into ash and blew away with the breeze. 

Demons that should have been immortal.

"What's . . . what's happening?" he hissed wildly in fear.

"You . . . failed us . . ." gagged Mandryd, eyes rolling back in his head even as he spoke. "You . . . will perish . . . in the darkest hell . . ."

"No!" screamed Ballast frantically. He dropped to his knees and extended a claw beseechingly to Mandryd. "It was not my fault! _It was not my fault!_"

Robert cried out as five talons sliced across his chest. With a groan, he fell to his knees. Rosie opened her mouth in a silent scream of protest and ran forward to her father. But she didn't make it in time. The talons swooped down upon Robert and stopped inches above his face. The demon's features contorted in confusion then rage, as it tried to move its arm free from an unseen antagonist. Curly gave a cry and flew before Robert gripping the creature by the ugly horns protruding from its forehead until it was reduced to the same type of squealing puddles as its former acquaintances. 

Ballast found himself alone on the deck of the ship and he looked around helplessly while the shouts aboard the Maelstrom told him the surviving demons had raised anchor and were sailing back to their place between worlds.

"Damn you," he hissed, looking at Jukes who stiffened in anticipation of any forthcoming attack. Ballast's body began to glow and the ground he stood one opened up, dragging him down with great force. "NO!" he shrieked in despair. "NO! I WILL NOT GO THERE! I DO NOT DESERVE THIS!" Painfully, Ballast half-crawled to Jukes, reaching out his talons to try and snare the boy. "I WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME TO HELL BOY!" He laughed maniacally. "COME CLOSER, AND I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT'S ALREADY WAITING FOR YOU AT LIFE'S END!"

"Ballast, just go to hell."

With a final burst of light, Ballast was dragged into the swirling vortex, screaming all the way.

Robert shook his head and struggled to his feet, grimacing at the pain of his wounds. A pair of gentle hands lifted him up, though he could not see whom they belonged to. "Rosie?" he murmured, but his eyes told him that the girl was standing at his left side . . . while the hands were lifting him up on his _right_ . . .

Confused, Mullins turned around and came face to face with someone he had never desired to see again. Not while he still lived.

"S-Sarah . . . !"

The auburn-haired woman looked at him and nodded faintly. She reached a hand up to touch the scarf at her neck and moved her mouth wordlessly.

"Whatever your excuse is . . ." Mullins started hotly, but Rosie tugged at his hand and looked up at him pleadingly. With a sigh, Mullins turned back towards his wife. "Fine. Sarah, thank ye for saving my life. It don't excuse what ye did, but ---"

Robert's voice died in his throat as he saw the woman tug away the scarf away from her throat. Transfixed, he stared at the knife wound slashed horizontally across her throat, so deep it had nearly decapitated her. He trembled and reached a hand to her wound, running his fingers over it; feeling the cold in her skin, and perhaps the sorrow she had felt while wandering the earth, alone and unforgiven for a crime she had never committed.

"Sarah . . ." he breathed helplessly. "What . . . who did this?" Sarah shook her head mournfully and Robert was once again reminded that she, like Rosie, could not speak. 

Feeling tears overwhelm him, he pulled her and Rosie close into a hug. "I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . ." he whispered, stroking Sarah's hair. "Forgive me . . ."

Hook turned his gaze away, respecting the man's privacy. Mason, Cookson, Smee, and Starkey's confused voices came from down below where Billy and Slightly had hidden them, and the young gunner descended to fill them in and to keep them from emerging above deck. 

Within his arms, Sarah shuddered and stood to her full height. Mullins could feel her slipping away, as she became less and less solid against him. Rosie hugged him and walked to her mother, taking her hand. 

"All this time I've been hating ye . . . and ye didn't even do anything wrong ---" Robert said lowly. Sarah touched his cheek tenderly. A gentle light filled her eyes and Mullins knew that both her and Rosie were finally able to journey together to a place where the loving warmth would banish the cold from their forms and heal the wounds of memory. 

Robert could almost feel that warmth as he touched his wife and daughter for the last time in his life. A soft light began to surround them and they became fainter and fainter before them as the midnight hour struck, ending the Day of the Dead, and beginning a new morning.

Mullins stood there until he could no longer make out their faces safe for the memories of them in his vision. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Hook. 

The Captain cleared his throat. "Robert, I admit, I made a mistake when I refused to believe you. I thank you for our lives, and I would be pleased if you would return to the service of the Jolly Roger . . . indefinitely."

Robert nodded curtly, and gave the faintest of smiles. 

Hook left him standing by the ship's railing and retired to his cabin. 

Mullins looked out over the water, and sighed gently. He was hurt deeply, but at the same time, he felt as if an old wound had suddenly disappeared from his heart, replaced with new and unscarred flesh. His wife and his daughter were at peace now. Though he hated himself for the pain he had put them through, lamented the fact that he would never see them alive again . . . they were at peace now and they would never hurt again. It was enough for him; even faced with the possibility that he would never go to where they were; not with his sinful life. 

"But I'll see you again, my loves," he vowed. "If God be merciful, then someday - even if it's through a closed gate - I'll see you once again."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tink?" Peter asked, breaking the silence while he and the Lost Boys flew back to the Underground House. Many were shaken by what they had seen; especially Slightly who kept rubbing at his arm, even though he had washed it thoroughly in the clear ocean water. "What happened? Why were we able to do that?"

Tink was silent, not knowing how to explain. Wisp answered for her. "Demons attacked the pirates for a reason. They are the foulest of creatures and if it's one thing they can't stand, it's the innocence of a child. None of you have seen the extent of misery a human can put himself or others through. None of you have any worldly desires to harm another living being. You lack the vices of the grown-up world because you're too young to understand them."

"But we did harm creatures," argued Nibs. "Even though they were evil, we still killed them. Does that mean we're no longer innocent?" 

Wisp was quiet for a minute. "You're no longer sheltered from the fact that pain and death exists, if that's what you mean. But if you mean innocent as in good-hearted . . . then I assure you, you boys are that."

"Will it be enough to get rid of the demons next time?" Curly asked forlornly. 

"They're not coming back-," cried one of the Twins.

"Are they, Wisp?" finished the other.

Wisp looked at Tink and she returned it, just as worried. "I don't know, boys," she answered. "I really don't know."

__

The End


End file.
